^e  amd  Bee: 


Dr.  John  McGregor 


LINCOLN  ROOM 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


MEMORIAL 

the  Class  of  1901 

founded  by 

HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 

and 

HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


LIFE  AND  DEEDS 


OF 


Dr.  john  McGregor, 


INCLUDING  SCENES  OF  HIS  CHILDHOOD,  ALSO  SCENES 
ON  THE  BATTLE  FIELD  OF  BULL  RUN,  AT  THE  PRIS- 
ONS IN  RICHMOND,  CHARLESTON,  CASTLE  PINCKNEY, 
COLUMBIA,  SALISBURY,  ON  THE  BANKS  OF  THE  JAMES 
RIVER,  HIS  ESCAPE,  HIS  RETURN  HOME,  THE  TRAGI- 
CAL SCENE  ON  DYER  ST.,  AND  THE  HEART-RENDING 
SCENE  AT  THE  CITY  HOTEL  IN  PROVIDENCE,  WHERE 
HIS  EVENTFUL  LIFE  TERMINATED. 


BY 


JEKEMIAH  S.  McGREGOK. 


FOSTER : 

PRESS    OF    FRY    BROTHERS. 

188G. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1880,  by 

JEREMIAH  S.  MCGREGOR, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PREFACE. 


The  life  of  a  public  man  is  a  leaf  of  History. 
It  is  a  leaf  also  in  which  minute  facts,  and 
particular  causes,  and  personal  transactions, 
are  brought  out  in  such  strong  relief  as  to 
have  the  effect  of  a  picture  taken  from  the 
Great  World,  but  viewed  as  we  view  small 
portions  of  the  firmament  through  telescopic 
glasses.  Such  lives  are  essential  elements  in 
the  great  picture  of  Humanity  in  action.  We 
must  see  the  heads  of  the  actors,  as  well  as  the 
great  moral  of  the  actions,  which  together  com- 
pose the  drama  of  human  society. 

The  life  of  Dr.  John  McGregor  is  such  an 
element  in  the  history  of  our  last  war.  It 
cannot  be  separated  from  the  great  struggle 


4  PREFACE. 

with  the  South.  Men  may  take  what  view 
they  please  of  him,  or  the  acts  in  which  he 
was  engaged;  but  some  view  they  must  take. 
Many  of  his  acts  were  no  trifling  parts,  nor 
performed  in  an  unimportant  period,  of  Amer- 
ican progress.  They  were  brilliant  points  on 
the  battle  field  of  Bull  Run.  They  moved  on 
from  that  bloody  field  to  those  loathsome 
Southern  prisons.  They  made  part  in  the 
terrible  scenes  at  Richmond,  Charleston,  Cas- 
tle Pinckney,  Salisbury,  and  on  the  banks  of 
the  James  River,  terminating  in  a  tragical  and 
heart-rending  scene  on  Dyer  Street,  and  at  the 
City  Hotel,  in  the  city  of  Providence.  In  all 
these  scenes,  whether  of  war  or  peace,  the  acts 
of  John  McGregor  cannot  be  separated  from 
History.  My  duty  is  to  place  the  lineaments 
of  a  public  character  on  record,  where  they 
may  be  seen  by  all  observers,  and  left,  undis- 
figured,  to  the  final  judgment  of  posterity. 
This  duty  the  writer  has  undertaken  to 
perform  with  strict  fidelity.     The  records    of 


PREFACE.  O 

the  country,  happily,  furnish  the  foundation  for 
most  of  his  statements;  the  testimony  of  emi- 
nent and  honorable  gentlemen,  themselves 
actors  in  some  of  the  scenes  described,  fur- 
nishes other  materials ;  and,  finally,  the  papers 
and  narratives  of  private  persons  make  up  an 
aggregate  of  facts  and  evidence  amply  suffi- 
cient to  satisfy  the  demands  of  Truth  and 
Justice. 

These  facts  the  writer  has  undertaken  to 
compose  in  a  clear  method,  an  easy  narrative, 
and,  as  far  as  he  has  the  ability,  an  agreeable 
style.  Beyond  this  he  does  not  seek  to  go. 
He  would  neither  exaggerate  the  objects  in 
his  picture,  nor  add  a  coloring  beyond  the 
hues  of  nature.  Xor  has  he  need,  for  the 
scenes  through  which  the  doctor  passed,  have 
interest  enough  without  any  distorted  figures 
drawn  by  the  pen  of  Fancy.  In  fine,  the 
writer  desires  to  make  a  volume  of  authentic 
and  unimpeachable  history.  It  will  aid  the 
historian  who,  in  future  time,  shall  wish  to  fill 


6  PREFACE. 

up  his  page  with  the  actors  and  actions  of  our 
days. 

The  life  of  a  man  whose  mind  was  so  con- 
centrated on  Surgery,  Physical  Science,  and 
the  art  of  medicine,  is  one  in  which  the  lover 
of  those  sciences  cannot  fail  to  take  deep  inter- 
est. It  is  but  natural  that  men  will  seek  to 
know  the  origin  of  one  who  stood  in  the  fore- 
most rank  with  the  most  noted  Surgeons  and 
Physicians  of  Rhode  Island  and  Connecticut, 
and  the  facts  of  his  early  life,  and  of  the 
expanding  of  his  mind.  With  eager  curiosity 
we  look  back,  and  in  the  sports  of  his  child- 
hood, in  the  pursuits  and  occupations  of  his 
youth,  we  seek  the  origin  and  source  of  all  that 
is  noble  and  exalted  in  the  man,  the  germ  and 
the  bud  from  which  have  burst  forth  the  fair 
fruit  and  the  beautiful  flower;  and  we  carefully 
treasure  up  each  trifling  incident  and  childish 
expression,  in  the  hope  to  trace  in  them  some 
feature  of  his  after  greatness.  Feeling  that 
the  early  life  of  a  man  like  John  McGregor, 


PREFACE*  7 

and  the  growth  of  those  feelings  and  opinions 
which  afterwards  embodied  themselves  in  the 
art  of  Surgery  and  Medicine,  would  be  inter- 
esting to  many,  we  deem  it  fortunate  if  we  can 
give  even  a  short  sketch  of  his  life.  We  will 
give  a  short  account  of  his  parentage,  and  then 
content  ourselves  with  a  general  outline  of  his 
after  life,  so  full  of  striking  events  and  useful 
labors. 


LIFE  AND  DEEDS 

OF 

dr.  john  McGregor. 


The  grandfather  of  Dr.  John  McGregor 
was  one  of  the  lineal  descendants  of  the 
McGregors  of  Scotland.  He  was  born  in 
Dundee,  Scotland,  in  1743,  and  died  in  Cov- 
entry, K.  I.,  in  1820,  aged  77.  In  coming  to 
America,  he  brought  with  him  little  except  a 
liberal  education  and  a  thorough  *  knowledge 
of  military  tactics.  His  knowledge  of  military 
tactics  made  him  a  desirable  acquisition  to  the 
ranks  of  the  yeomen  of  Connecticut,  who  were 
vastly  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of  military 
art  and    strateary.      Here    he   drilled    a  larffe 


&J.  A^xv  XXV  ^xxxxvvi  .,        ""{-> 


10  UFK    AM)     DKKDS    OF 

company,  in  Plainfield,  in  military  tactics  and 
evolutions,  and  hurried  with  them  to  Boston 
at  the  first  alarm  which  convulsed  the  feeble 
colonics  at  the  prospect  of  so  unequal  a  strug- 
gle. He  afterward  commanded  his  company 
at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  was  in  many 
of  the  principal  engagements  during  the  entire 
war  of  the  Revolution.  He  was  present  at  the 
surrender  of  Cornwallis  at  Yorktown,  and  was 
.  finally  honorably  discharged  by  Washington, 
at  New  York,  at  the  end  of  the  Revolution. 
He  was  in  command  of  the  guard  over  the 
lamented  Major  Andre  during  his  short  con- 
finement, and  ever  related  the  incidents  attend- 
ing his  trial  and  execution,  with  uncontrollable 
emotion.  He  married  Betsey  Shepard,  daugh- 
ter of  Simon  Shepard,  of  Plainfield.  She  was 
born  in  Plainfield,  Connecticut,  in  1757,  and 
died  in  Coventry,  Rhode  Island,  in  1815, 
aged  58. 

Col.  Jeremiah  McGregor,  son  of  John 
McGregor,  and  father  of  Dr.  John  McGregor, 
was  born  in  Coventry,  Rhode  Island,  in  1780, 
and  died  in  Coventry,  in  1875,  aged  95.  He 
married    Elipha  Nichols,  daughter    of  Major 


DR.    JOHN    MCGREGOR.  11 

Jonathan  Nichols.  She  was  born  in  Coventry, 
Rhode  Island,  in  1784,  and  died  in  Coventry, 
September  9th,  1874,  aged  90. 

The  late  Dr.  John  McGregor  bore  the  name 
of  his  grandfather,  and  was  born  in  the  town 
of  Coventry,  Rhode  Island,  on  the  10th  day  of 
October,  1820.  His  earlier  years  foretokened 
those  of  his  manhood.  Among  his  neighbors, 
he  was  always  called  a  good  boy,  and  among 
the  boys  of  his  age,  he  was  the  great  favorite. 
In  all  their  projects,  he  was  the  preferred  one 
who  was  commissioned  to  carry  them  forward 
to  their  consummation.  His  early  education 
was  only  such  as  our  best  seminaries  afforded 
at  that  time. 

We  will  pass  over  his  boyish  days,  or  until 
he  arrived  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  At  this  time 
his  character  is  described  by  those  who  well 
knew  him,  as  distinctly  formed.  He  was  full 
of  hope,  and  animated  by  a  just  sense  of  honor, 
and  a  generous  ambition  of  honest  fame.  His 
heart  was  open  and  kind  to  all  the  world,  warm 
with  affection  toward  his  friends,  and  with  no 
idea  that  he  had,  or  deserved  to  have,  an  enemy. 
It  seems  that  he  was  intended  for  one  of  the 


12  LIFE    AM)    DKKDS    OF 

learned  professions.  In  the  spring  of  1837,  we 
find  him  engaged  as  elerk  in  the  store  of  Ste- 
phen Taft.  At  this  time,  Stephen  Taft  was 
one  of  the    largest    manufacturers   of  cotton 

cloth,  in  the  country.  His  village  was  situated 
in  the  east  part  of  Coventry,  where  now  is 
located  one  of  the  largest  and  most  beautiful 
cotton  manufacturing  villages  in  Rhode  Island, 
called  Quidnick.  After  serving  as  clerk  in 
the  store  for  about  two  years,  he  returned 
home,  and  soon  after  placed  himself  under  the 
teachings  of  Andrew  Cutler,  of  Plainfield, 
Connecticut,  then  quite  a  celebrated  man. 
Cutler  was  a  graduate  of  Brown,  Rhode 
Island,  and,  at  that  time,  was  keeping  a  High 
School  in  Plainfield.  After  studying  one  year 
with  Cutler,  he  occupied  his  time  for  the  next 
two  years  in  keeping  district  schools  in  differ- 
ent towns  in  Rhode  Island. 

In  1842,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Phenix 
Baptist  Church,  at  Phenix,  R.  L;  and  all 
through  his  life  he  exerted  his  influence  in  the 
furtherance  of  the  cause  of  Christ. 

At  the  time  the  Smithville  Seminary  opened 
its  doors  to  the  public,  he  was  one  of  the  first 


l)i:     JOHN     Mr(i]!K(;oK.  13 

to  enter,     lie  pursued  the  usual  preparatory 

studies,  and  graduated  in  1843.  Smithville 
Seminary  commenced  operations  October  14th, 
1840.  The  members  of  the  Board  of  Instruction 
were  as  follows:  Hosea  Quinby,  A.  M.,  Prin- 
cipal; Stowell  L.  Weld,  A.  M.,  Associate 
Principal;  Caroline  L.  Johnson  and  Ainev  M. 
Baxter,  Teachers  in  the  Female  Department; 
Stephen  t>.  Wmsor,  Register  and  Steward. 
This  institution  was  located  on  the  Hartford 
and  Providence  Turnpike,  nine  miles  west 
of  Providence,  in  a  very  pleasant  country,  and 
stood  on  a  small  eminence  commanding  a  view 
of  a  few  neat  villages,  and  also  three  places  of 
worship  situated  near. 

In  1843  he  entered  the  office  of  Dr.  William 
Hubbard,  of  Crompton,  Rhode  Island,  as  stu- 
dent. He  continued  his  studies  with  Dr.  Hub- 
bard three  years,  attending  medical  lectures  at 
the  Medical  Institution  at  Xew  York,  within 
that  time.  I  shall  always  remember  the  first 
time  that  he  went  to  Xew  York  to  attend 
medical  lectures.  At  this  time,  a  number  of 
young  students,  who  were  going  to  Xew  York 
to  attend  medical  lectures,  had  an  understand- 


14  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    <>F 

ing  among  themselves  to  meet  at  McGregor*s 
old  homestead,  and  go  to  New  York  together. 
In  the  afternoon  previous  to  the  day  appointed 
for  them  to  start  for  New  York,  Moses  Fifield, 
Thomas  Andrews,  William  Bennett,  Wilbur 
Rriggs,  and  John  Hill,  arrived  at  the  old 
homestead  of  Dr.  McGregor,  and  found  him 
making  preparations  for  the  journey.  The 
evening  was  passed  mostly  in  conversation 
concerning  their  future  plans  and  prospects. 
Some  one  of  the  party,  I  think  it  was  Bennett, 
asked  the  writer  what  profession  he  should 
choose.  In  reply,  he  told  him  that  he  thought 
a  certain  trade  would  be  as  profitable  as  a 
profession,  and  that  he  thought  he  should  learn 
that  trade.  "What  trade  is  that  which  would 
be  as  profitable  as  our  profession?"  asked  Ben- 
nett. "Making  coffins,"  answered  the  writer, 
'Tor  I  think  that  when  all  of  you  get  through 
with  your  studies,  and  commence  to  practice, 
there  will  be  great  eall  for  them." 

That  was  before  the  Hartford  and  Provi- 
dence Railroad  was  built,  so  those  young- 
doctors  were  conveyed,  by  carriage,  from  the 
old  homestead  to  Central  Village,  on  the  Nor- 


Dr.   JOHN   MOGREGOK.  15 

•wich  and  Worcester  Railroad.  From  there 
they  went,  by  rail,  to  Norwich,  and  from  Nor- 
wich, by  steamboat,  to  New  York.  Where 
are  those  men  to-day?  Fifield  is  at  Center- 
ville,  Briggs  in  Providence,  their  hair  as  white 
as  the  driven  snow;  and  the  others  are  sleeping 
that  long  and  dreamless  sleep,  in  their  graves. 
Dr.  McGregor  graduated  in  1845,  at  the 
Medical  University  of  Ncav  York.  Soon  after, 
Dr.  Wagstaff  offered  him  a  situation  in  the 
Lying-in  Asylum  of  New  York.  Dr.  Wagstaff 
had  the  full  control  of  that  institution  at  that 
time.  Dr.  McGregor  remained  in  the  institu- 
tion until  1846,  when  he  returned  to  his  native 
town.  He  opened  an  office  at  his  father's 
house,  and  notified  the  people  that  he  was  at 
their  service.     The  following  is  the 


i& 


NOTICE. 

Dr.  J.  McGregor,  a  graduate  of  the  New 
York  University  Medical  College,  having,  for 
the  past  eighteen  months,  enjoyed  the  facilities 
for  the  acquisition  of  medical  knowledge  which 
the  New  York  hospitals,  asylums,  and  dispen- 
saries present  the  medical  student,  feels  himself 
qualified  for  the  discharge  of  those  duties  which 


H)  LIKK     AM)     !)i:i:i)S    OK 

devolve  upon  a  medical  practitioner.  lie  has 
located  himself  at  his  father's  house,  where  he 
can  be  consulted  at  all  times,  when  not  profes- 
sionally absent. 

John  McGregor. 

New  York  Lying-in  Asylum,  March  22nd.  L845. 

I  certify  that  John  McGregor,  M.  I).,  of  Kent  County.  Rhode 
[si and,  has  been  District  Physician  to  this  institution  forayear 
past,  during  which  time-  he  lias  attended  a  Large  number  of 
women  in  confinement,  and  had  charge,  in  my  absence,  of  the 
Asylum  :  in  the  fulfillment  of  which  duties  lie  proved  himself  an 
attentive  and  skillful  practitioner  of  the  highly  important  branch 
of  practice.  Obstetrics. 

W.m.    K.    W.u; STAFF.  M.    I).. 

Resident  Physician  of  New  York  Lying-in  Asylum,  member  of 
Parisian  Medical  Society.  Lecturer  on  Midwifery  etc. 

When  it  was  announced  that  lie  was  coming 
home  to  settle,  all  the  people  were  pleased,  and 
ready  to  receive  him  with  outstretched  arms. 
He  had  been  at  home  but  a  short  time  before 
he  had  more  business  than  he  could  attend  to. 
His  rides  were  very  long,  for  there  was  no 
doctor  within  eight  miles  of  him.  He  had  no 
fear  of  competition,  but  those  long  rides  over 
those  large  hills,  through  storms  and  dark 
nights,  were  not  very  pleasant.  His  home 
soon  became  a  hospital,  where  the  blind  re- 


Dr.   JOHN   MCGREGOR.  17 

Ceived  their  sight  again,  cataracts  vanished  like 
the  morning  dew,  hair-lips  were  remodeled  into 
very  respectable  looking  ones,  crooked  eyes 
were  straightened,  polypuses  were  removed 
from  the  nose;  legs  which  had  been  drawn  up 
for  years  were  straightened,  cancers  were 
removed  with  the  knife,  and  many  other  oper- 
ations were  often  performed. 

Dr.  George  Wilcox,  of  Providence,  com- 
menced the  study  of  medicine  with  him  at  this 
time.  Here  it  was  that  Dr.  Wilcox  first  dis- 
sected a  human  body. 

The  ruling  motive  of  McGregor's  life,  was 
to  become  an  accomplished  surgeon.  From 
his  start,  all  his  energies  were  bent  in  this 
direction,  and  finding  a  country  practice  did 
not  afford  him  the  facilities  he  desired  for  the 
prosecution  of  this  branch  of  his  profession,  he 
removed  to  Phenix.  This  change  was  against 
the  wishes  of  many  of  his  warm  and  true 
friends.  He  did  not  leave  his  friends  and 
patients  until  he  had  engaged  Dr.  P.  K. 
Hutchinson,  a  young  physician  who  had  grad- 
uated with  the  greatest  honors  which  the 
medical  institutions  could  bestow,  to  take  his 


1.8  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

place.  Dr.  Hutchinson  became  one  of  the 
most  eminent  physicians  in  the  country.  Dr. 
McGregor  moved  to  Phenix  in  the  fall  of 
1S47.  Here  he  was  surrounded  by  factory 
villages  in  all  directions.  He  had  previously 
scanned  this  section  of  country,  and  came  to 
the  conclusion,  that  with  his  knowledge  of 
surgery,  this  was  the  place  for  him;  for  hun- 
dreds, every  year,  were  injured  in  those 
mills.  Here  his  expectations  were  more  than 
realized.  He  proved  himself  to  be  a  surgeon 
and  physician  of  no  small  merit.  Here  he 
gathered  around  him  a  host  of  true  and  reliable 
friends.  When  a  man  could  truly  say  that 
such  men  as  Joseph  Lawton,  Henry  I).  Brown, 
Elisha  and  Thomas  Lanphear,  Simon  H. 
Greene  and  family,  James  B.  Arnold,  David 
Pike,  William  C.  Ames,  Cyrus  and  Stephen 
Harris,  and  a  host  of  others,  were  among  his 
true  friends,  he  should  be  very,  very  proud. 

The  doctor  early  showed  his  Scotch  blood; 
that  is  to  say,  he  had  the  strong,  substantial 
qualities  of  character  for  which  the  well-trained 
families  of  Scotland  are  remarkable.  Ino 
people  are  calmer  in  action,  more  reverent  in 


Dr.   JOHN    McGREGOR.  19 

religious  feeling,  or  surpass  them  in  integrity. 

In  July,  1848,  he  married  Emily  P.  Ames, 
daughter  of  William  C.  Ames,  of  Phenix, 
Rhode  Island.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe,  in 
detail,  all  which  transpired  concerning  him 
while  he  was  at  Phenix;  for  it  is  enough  for 
my  purpose  to  say  that  his  practice  was  very 
extensive,  and  that  he  was  very  successful  in  his 
surgical  operations,  which  were  his  specialty. 

In  1850  or  '51,  Dr.  Bowen,  of  Thompson 
Hill,  Connecticut,  was  summoned  by  the  Angel 
of  Death  to  the  Heavenly  Court,  beyond  the 
clouds.  He  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  sur- 
geons in  Connecticut.  His  practice  was  very 
extensive,  and  he  was  very  successful  in  oper- 
ating. The  loss  to  the  people  was  very  great. 
There  was  a  vacancy  to  be  filled.  rfWho  can 
till  Dr.  Bowen's  place  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
people?  who  will  dare  take  his  place  as  sur- 
geon?" were  the  sayings  of  many  of  his 
friends.  All  who  know  the  people  of  Thomp- 
son, know  that  doctors  and  preachers  of  the 
gospel  must  be  first-class,  to  be  patronized  by 
them.  After  receiving  a  number  of  letters 
from    some    of  the    most    prominent   men    in 


20  LIFE    A XI)    DEEDS    <>F 

Thompson,  soliciting  him  to  come  and  take  the 
place  left  vacant  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Bowen, 
he  went  and  made  a  thorough  examination  of 
everything  appertaining  to  the  filling  of  the 

vacancy.  lie  was  convinced  that  he  could, 
after  a  time,  fill  the  place  to  the  satisfaction  of 
Dr.  Bowen's  friends,  and  the  community  at 
large.  After  coming  to  this  conclusion,  and 
consulting  with  his  wife  and  her  family,  and 
many  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  he  concluded 
to  leave  Phenix,  and  to  go  to  Thompson.  It 
was  a.  great  trial  for  him  to  leave  Phenix,  and 
his  many  warm  friends;  and  it  was  as  great  a 
trial  to  his  friends  to  have  him  go.  He  moved 
to  Thompson  in  1852,  and  soon  opened  an 
office,  and  commenced  practice.  We  will  drop 
a  vail  over  the  sad  hearts  which  he  left  at 
Phenix,  and  follow  him  to  his  new  field  of 
operations. 

The  wealthy  and  beautiful  little  village  of 
Thompson,  with  all  the  adornments  which 
wealth  can  add  to  make  it  attractive  to  the 
eye,  is  situated  on  a  gentle  eminence  which 
slopes  toward  the  setting  sun,  terminating  in 
a    beautiful     valley,    with    Quinnebaug    river 


Dr.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  21 

glancing  and  dancing  through  it;  and  faced 
by  Woodstock  Hill,  whose  echo  sends  back 
the  sounds  of  its  clear-toned  bells.  Such  is  a 
glimpse  of  Thompson  Hill. 

Here  we  find  Dr.  McGregor,  surrounded  by 
the  most  hopeful  prospects.  Everything  which 
makes  life  desirable  seemed  to  be  placed  before 
him.  Dr.  Bowen's  friends  received  him  kindly, 
and  his  practice  soon  extended  far  and  near; 
and  ere  long  he  could  truly  say  that  his  success 
was  far  beyond  all  for  which  he  had  ever 
hoped.  At  this  time,  to  the  beholder,  he  was 
in  his  zenith ;  but  man's  vision  does  not  extend 
far  into  the  future.  We  are  visitable  by  many 
things  which  make  life  enjoyable,  and  also  by 
things  which  make  life  almost  unendurable. 
The  vicissitudes  in  this  life  are  many.  Ere 
long  the  bright  blue  sky  was  o'ercast  by  a  cloud 
which  filled  his  heart  with  anguish  and  sorrow. 
His  beloved  wife  was  taken  sick,  and  in 
March,  1855,  her  soul  passed  from  earth  to 
that  undiscovered  country.  Then,  all  was 
darkness  and  gloom.  His  home  was  desolate, 
his  fairest  prospect  blasted.  Sympathy  will 
often  soothe  the  feelings,  but  Avill  not  heal  the 


•;•; 


LIKE    AND     DEEDS    <)!• 


heart  which  is  lacerated  and  torn.  He  knew 
thai  everything  which  could  be  done  to  alle- 
viate her  sufferings,  and  to  defeat  the  Angel 
of  Death,  had  been  done  as  far  as  it  was  in  his 
power;  and  he  also  knew  that  he  must  submit 
to  the  all-powerful  and  all-wise  (4od.  The 
mortal  part  of  his  beloved  wife  was  carefully 
removed  from  her  home  in  Thompson,  to 
Phenix,  her  own  native  village,  and  the  scenes 
of  her  childhood,  and  there,  beside  her  kindred, 
laid  away  to  wait  the  coming-  of  the  Lord. 
Sadly  he  returned  to  his  desolate  home. 

I  will  now  pass  to  other  scenes.  The  scenes 
in  this  life  are  ever  changing.  We  see  him 
driving  over  those  lofty  hills,  and  through 
those  fertile  valleys,  through  storms  and  pleas- 
ant weather;  exposed  to  the  cold  in  winter,  and 
to  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun  in  summer. 
The  many  varied  and  difficult  operations  which 
he  was  called  upon  to  perform,  and  his  uniform 
success,  made  for  him  the  reputation  of  a  first- 
class  operator.  Windham  County  had  unlim- 
ited confidence  in  his  abilit}r;  and  the  suavity 
of  his  manners  endeared  him  to  every  household 
he  ever  entered. 


Dr.    JOHN    MCGREGOR,  23 

As  time  passed  on,  he  formed  an  acquaint- 
ance with  Elizabeth  C.  Allen,  a  lady  endowed 
with  all  the  qualities  requisite  for  a  physician's 
wife;  and,  on  January  10th,  1856,  they  were 
married. 

I  will  pass  on  to  18(51.  At  this  time  it  could 
not  be  denied  that  the  United  States  was  a 
great  nation,  although  a  controversy  between 
the  ]STorth  and  South  had  grown  to  an  alarm- 
ing extent.  The  sympathies  of  the  people  were 
divided  between  the  Northern  and  Southern 
parties,  on  the  great  question.  A  war,  which 
so  many  of  the  warm  spirits  of  the  country 
looked  for,  was  soon  to  take  place.  At  this 
lime  the  Great  Rebellion  was  inaugurated, 
and  had  begun  to  convulse  the  land.  The 
tocsin  of  alarm  was  sounded,  and  the  notes  of 
preparation  were  heard  from  Maine  to  Louisi- 
ana. 

On  April  12th,  1861,  the  rebels  bombarded 
Fort  Sumter,  and  caused  Anderson  to  surren- 
der it  into  their  hands.  Then  the  ]^orth  was 
obliged  to  take  up  arms  against  the  South. 

In  the  controversy  of  this  exciting  period, 
the  doctor  was,  in  his  opinions  and  acts,  with 


24  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

the  Republican  party.  He  was  educated,  be- 
lieved, and  acted,  according  to  the  political 
principles  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 

The  revolution  through  which  the  American 
nation  was  to  pass,  was  not  a  mere  local  con- 
vulsion. It  was  a  Avar  for  the  rights  of  the 
working  class  of  society,  and  against  the  usur- 
pation of  privileged  aristocracies.  The  time 
had  come  for  a  great  and  decisive  struggle 
between  these  two  parties. 

Three  days  after  the  fall  of  Sumter,  President 
Lincoln  issued  the  memorable  proclamation, 
calling  for  seventy-five  thousand  volunteers  to 
defend  the  national  Capital,  and,  finally,  to 
recover  possession  of  the  United  States  forts, 
arsenals,  and  navy  yards,  which  had  been  taken 
by  the  rebels.  Previous  to  issuing  that  mem- 
orable proclamation.  President  Lincoln  had 
done  all  that  mortal  man  could  do,  to  appease 
the  angry  South.  He  spake  to  them  with  voice 
majestic  as  the  sound  of  far-off  waters,  falling 
into  deep  abysses.  Warning*,  chiding-,  he 
spake  in  this  wise:  "r Listen  to  the  words  of 
wisdom,  listen  to  the  words  of  warning,  from 
the  lips  of  one  that  loves   you.     T  have  given 


t)R.    JOHX    MCGREGOR.  2.5 

you  all  the  privileges  which  the  Constitution 
allows  you;  why  then  are  you  not  contented? 
why  then  will  you  be  rebellious?  I  am  weary 
of  your  quarrels,  your  wranglings  and  dissen- 
sions. All  your  strength  is  in  your  union  with 
the  North,  all  your  danger  is  in  discord;  there- 
fore be  at  peace,  and  as  brothers  live  together. " 
But  they  heeded  not  the  warning,  heeded  not 
those  words  of  wisdom. 

The  greatest  excitement  was  created  by  that 
proclamation.  The  doctor  said  to  all  the  peo- 
ple whom  he  conversed  with,  upon  that  matter, 
frI  cordially  concur  in  every  word  of  that 
document."  The  doctor,  true  to  his  impulses, 
was  a  patriot,  stern  and  inflexible;  and  the 
sudden  and  urgent  appeal  to  arms,  stirred  him 
as  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  In  the  morn- 
ing, after  reading,  in  the  morning  paper,  the 
full  account  of  the  bombardment  of  Sumter, 
and  the  President's  proclamation,  he  said  to 
his  friends,  ffI  feel  that  I  am  in  debt  to  my 
country,  and  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  dis- 
charge the  obligation."  ^oble  and  high 
resolve!  He  immediately  wrote  to  Gov. 
Buckingham,  offering  his  services  to  his  conn- 


26  LIFE    A XI)    DEEPS    OF 

try.  Hi*  soon  received  a  dispatch  from  the 
governor,  stating  that  he  was  pleased  with  his 
offer,  and  that  his  services  would  be  gladly 
accepted,  and  that  he  wonld  be  appointed  sur- 
geon of  the  third  regiment. 

At  this  time  the  State  Legislature  was  not 
in  session.  Gov.  Buckingham,  however,  had 
such  wide  financial  relations  as  enabled  him 
immediately  to  command  the  funds  for  equip- 
ping the  military  for  the  field.  Connecticut,  I 
think,  may  say  with  honest  pride,  that  no  men 
went  into  the  field,  better  equipped,  or  more 
thoroughly  appointed  and  cared  for. 

When  a  man  in  the  doctor's  position,  was 
ready  and  willing  to  leave  his  home,  his 
friends,  his  large  practice,  and  almost  every- 
thing which  makes  life  desirable,  to  enter  the 
army,  and  to  be  subjected  to  all  the  sufferings 
and  hardships  of  war,  others  were  ready  to 
follow  his  example.  He  never  would  encour- 
age men  to  do  what  he  dared  not  do  himself. 
His  motto  was,  "Men,  follow!"  He  did  no 
more  than  thousands  of  others  were  ready  and 
willing  to  do,  at  that  time.  It  is  to  men  who 
possessed  such   hearts,  that  the  country  owes 


T)n.   JOHN   McGBEGOR.  2i 

a  debt  of  gratitude;  for  by  and  through  them 
the  country  was  saved.  What  would  this 
country  be  to-day  if  that  terrible  wave  of  rebel- 
lion had  not  been  broken?  It  was  broken,  and 
thoroughly  broken ;  but  at  what  a  sacrifice ! 

The  preparation  of  the  third  Connecticut 
regiment,  which  was  then  almost  ready  to  start 
for  Washington,  Avas  similar  to  that  of  other 
regiments  which  were  at  that  time  preparing 
for  war;  and  the  scene  at  Dr.  McGregor's  at 
the  time  he  left  his  friends  and  home,  to  join 
his  regiment  at  Hartford,  was  similar  to  many 
other  scenes  of  the  same  nature,  which  were 
taking  place  in  many  other  sections  of  the 
country.  The  parting  scene  I  will  not  attempt 
to  describe.  I  will  leave  that  to  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  reader.  It  is  enough  for  my  purpose 
to  say  that  the  farewell  had  been  spoken,  and 
he  was  on  his  way  to  join  his  regiment.  As 
the  last  glimpse  of  his  home  and  the  dear  ones 
vanished  from  his  view,  a  peculiar  pensiveness 
seized  upon  his  mind.  There  is  an  indescrib- 
able charm  that  links  one  to  the  land  of  his 
nativity.  As  he  took  the  last  view  of  his 
home,    the    thousand    endearing    friends    and 


28  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

objects  left  behind,  rushed  upon  his  mind  like 
an  avalanche.  Tender  emotions  swelled  his 
bosom.  It  was  then  he  set  a  true  estimate  on 
all  he  had  parted  with.  Then,  for  a  few 
moments,  the  interests  of  the  future  were  lost 
in  the  melancholy  of  the  present.  Such,  no 
doubt,  were  his  feelings. 

I  will  not  burden  the  reader  with  the  partic- 
ulars of  the  momentous  journey  from  Hartford 
to  Washington.  The  regiment,  on  arrival, 
immediately  went  into  cam]),  with  the  under- 
standing that  a  forward  movement  would  take 
place  very  soon;  for  the  rebels  were  massing 
their  forces  at  Manassas  Gap.  A  full  descrip- 
tion of  those  tented  fields,  and  the  doings  of 
those  seventy-five  thousand  men,  previous  to 
the  time  when  the  word,  rr  Forward !"  was 
sounded  along  the  line,  would  be  interesting 
to  the  reader;  but  I  do  not  feel  competent  to 
give  it.  An  old  soldier,  standing  on  Arlington 
Heights,  and  viewing  the  tented  fields,  —  one 
who  had  seen  much  service  in  the  army,  who 
had  fought  the  Indians  all  through  the  Florida 
war,  and  who  had  been  in  many  of  the  hard 
fought  battles  in  Mexico,  said,  as  he  surveyed 


Dr.   JOHK   McGBEGOR.  29 

those  fields,  "Those  poor  boys  little  know  what 
thev  will  have  to  suffer,  and  to  contend  with. 
War  is  a  terrible  tiling,  only  realized  by  those 
Ayho  fight  the  battles.  I  know  that  those 
Southerners  will  fight.  I  have  been  with  many 
of  them  in  many  hard  fought  battles.  I  speak 
from  experience."  That  old  soldier  was  Gen. 
Winfield  Scott. 

On  the  22nd  of  May,  Gen.  Butler  took  com- 
mand of  the  department  of  the  South,  and  made 
his  head-quarters  at  Fortress  Monroe.  On  the 
10th  of  June,  occurred  the  battle  of  Big  Bethel. 
But  a  still  more  serious  lesson  was  to  be  learned 
by  the  people.  During  this  time,  the  rebels 
were  not  idle,  but  were  spreading  their  field  of 
operation,  taking  possession  of  important 
points,  massing  their  troops  at  different  places, 
and  preparing  to  make  an  assault  on  our  Cap- 
ital. 

The  4th  of  July  dawned  with  all  loveli- 
ness.  But  what  a  scene  presented  itself  to 
view!  The  panoramic  view,  presented  to  the 
beholder,  as  he  stood  on  Arlington  Heights, 
was  such  as  man  can  never  fully  describe.  As 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  country  was  one 


IJO  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

vast  encampment.  An  army  of  seventy-five 
thousand  yonng  men,  the  flower  of  the  North, 
was  preparing  for  the  great  straggle.  The 
most  noted  lawyers  had  left  their  courts  and 
clients;  the  most  eminent  surgeons  and  physi- 
cians had  left  their  patients;  cashiers  had  left 
their  banks;  manufacturers  had  left  their 
mills;  farmers  had  left  their  farms;  clergymen 
had  left  their  churches ;  governors  had  left  their 
states  in  other  hands;  professors  of  colleges 
had  left  their  collegians;  clerks  had  left  their 
offices;  mechanics  had  left  their  shops;  and 
volunteered,  as  soldiers,  to  put  down  rebellion. 
Such  were  the  men  who  were  tenting  before 
Washington. 

The  day  soon  dawned,  when  the  beholder 
could  plainly  see  that  something  uncommon 
was  taking  place  in  that  encampment.  Staff 
officers  were  dashing  from  head-quarters  to 
head-quarters;  the  tattoo  was  beat  by  the 
drummer  boys;  the  high  notes  of  the  bugle 
were  sounded  throughout  the  encampment;  the 
boys  were  falling  into  line;  tents  were  taken 
down  and  packed;  and  everything  denoted  a 
departure  of  the  army.     Soon  the  word  "For- 


bit.    JOHN    MCGREGOR.  31 

ward!"  was  sounded  along  the  line;  and  then 
came  the  sound  of  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  min- 
gled with  the  clatter  of  the  cavalry,  and  the 
rumble  and  jar  of  the  artillery.  As  the  long- 
line  wound  itself  over  the  hills  and  out  of  sisrht, 
the  burnished  guns  and  other  implements  of 
war  glistening  in  that  July  sun,  a  sadness 
enveloped  those  left  at  our  Capital,  who,  on 
bended  knees,  were  asking  God  to  protect 
those  hoys,  and  to  save  our  country.  Then 
the  stillness  became  almost  oppressive. 

With  anxious  hearts,  we  waited  for  news 
from  the  front.  We  received  a  letter  from  the 
doctor,  while  the  army  was  at  Fairfax  Court 
House,  and  another  when  it  was  at  Falls 
Church.  That  was  the  last  one  we  received 
from  him,  before  the  battle  of  Bull  Run.  His 
letters  were  full  of  hope.  He  believed  that  the 
North  was  in  the  right;  and  he  also  believed 
that  right  would  prevail.  He  was  always 
hopeful,  from  boyhood.  We  knew  that  the 
two  armies  were  in  close  proximity  to  each 
other;  and  we  also  knew  that  our  army  was 
then  at  the  very  mouth  of  the  rebels'  den.  We 
knew  that    a  terrible    battle    would    soon    be 


IV2  l AVE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

fought,  and  we  were  very  anxious  to  have 
tidings  from  our  army.  Still  we  watched  and 
prayed. 

On  the  19th  of  July,  the  telegraph  wires 
fairly  trembled,  as  they  conveyed  the  news  to 
all  parts  of  the  country,  that  the  battle  had 
begun.  Then,  all  was  excitement,  for  we  were 
then  living  between  hope  and  fear.  I  will 
leave  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader,  the  feel- 
ings of  the  people,  when  the  news  of  the  battle 
of  Bull  Run  first  reached  them.  The  tale  ran 
thus:  "The  Northern  army  is  routed,  the  rebel 
army  victorious.  The  Connecticut  and  Rhode 
Island  regiments  have  suffered  fearfully.  Slo- 
cum,  Ballon,  and  many  other  noted  men  from 
Rhode  Island,  and  a  large  number  from  Con- 
necticut, lie  dead  upon  the  battle  field.  The 
second  Rhode  Island  and  the  third  Connecti- 
cut are  almost  annihilated,  and  Dr.  McGregor 
and  many  others  taken  prisoners." 

A  true  panoramic  view  of  that  battle  field,  at 
the  time  when  the  battle  was  at  its  height, 
would  be  such  as  few  would  care  to  see.  The 
armies  of  the  North  and  South  had  faced  each 
other,  and  wrestled    together,  for  eight  long 


Dr..    JTOHK   MCGREGOR.  33 

hours,  with  that  desperate  courage  which 
Americans  only  can  show.  I  will  give  you  a 
short  account  of  that  terrible  battle  which 
made  Bull  Run  and  the  plains  of  Manassas 
famous  for  all  time. 

The  day  was  bright  and  beautiful.  On  the 
right  was  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  in  front  were 
the  slopes  on  the  north  side  of  Bull  Run, 
crowned  with  woods  in  which  our  army  had 
early  planted  its  batteries,  and  all  around  were 
eminences  on  which  were  posted  small  but 
anxious  knots  of  spectators.  The  hill  above 
Mitchell's  Ford  is  almost  entirely  bare  of  trees, 
and  sufficiently  high  to  afford  an  unobstructed 
view  of  the  opposite  heights.  The  guns  of  the 
enemy,  on  the  opposite  hills,  were  plainly  to  be 
seen  with  the  naked  eye ;  and  the  heavy  clouds 
of  dust,  rising  above  the  woods,  in  front  and 
on  either  side,  indicated  the  direction  in  which 
the  heavy  columns  of  the  enemy  were  march- 


ing. 


The  night  before  the  battle,  it  was  generally 
understood  that  the  rebels  were  gathered  in 
great  force,  and  designed  turning  our  left  flank, 
which  rested  a  few  miles  above  the  scene  of 


3  1  LIFE    A  XT)    DEEDS    OF 

Thursday's    engagement,    at  a   ford    on    Bull   . 
Bun,  called  Stone  Bridge. 

Ou  Friday,  the  19th,  Gen.  Joseph  E.  John- 
ston, who  had  the  command  of  the  army  of  the 
Shenandoah,  posted  at  Winchester^  arrived  at 
Manassas  Junction  with  four  thousand  of  his 
division,  to  re-enforce  Gen.  Beaureg'ard.  The 
remainder  of  his  army,  with  the  exception  of 
a  sufficient  force  to  hold  Winchester,  was 
intended  to  arrive  on  Saturday.  Gen.  Patter- 
son was  ordered  to  swing  around  Winchester, 
and  to  hold  Gen.  Johnston  in  check.  The 
noted  Edmund  Kuffin,  who  had  against  the 
walls  of  Fort  Sumter  fired  the  first  defiant  gun, 
had  come  to  this  conflict,  with  his  flowing  white 
locks,  and  with  eighty  odd  years  weighing 
upon  him,  to  take  part  in  this  fight,  encoura- 
ging his  young  men  by  his  presence  and  exam- 
ple. Agile  as  a  youth  of  sixteen,  with  rifle  on 
his  shoulder,  his  eyes  glistened  with  excitement 
as  he  burned  to  engage  the  Yankee  invader. 
It  was  Gen.  Beauregard's  purpose  to  make  the 
attack  instead  of  waiting  to  receive  it,  but  he 
preferred  at  last  to  let  our  army  take  the 
initiative;    perhaps    for  the  reason    that  Gen. 


Dr.   JOHX   MCGREGOR.  35 

Johnston's  division  was  detained  at  Winches- 
ter. Gen.  Burnside's  brigade  was  situated 
on  a  hill,  above  the  stone  bridge,  and  the 
Connecticut  troops  on  his  left. 

At  eleven  o'clock  our  batteries  opened  fire, 
witli  rifled  cannon  and  shell,  on  their  left, 
without  response.  We  heard,  away  to  the 
right,  about  three  miles  distant,  the  heavy 
booming  of  cannon,  followed  immediately  by 
the  rattling  crack  of  musketry,  the  discharges 
being  repeated  and  continuous,  which  notified 
ns  that  the  engagement  had  commenced  in 
earnest  at  that  point  where  the  battle  was  to 
be  fought  and  won.  Beauregard  and  Johnston 
commanded  their  main  body  at  Stone  Bridge. 
Gen.  Jones's  brigade  was  stationed  at  Black- 
burn's Ford.  On  the  east  side  of  the  ford,  we 
had  tAvo  strong  batteries  in  a  commanding 
position.  Jones's  brigade  made  an  attack  on 
our  left  flank,  but  their  troops  were  compelled 
to  retire  with  heavy  loss.  All  the  morning, 
we  had  been  bombarding  Gen.  Longstreet's 
position  in  his  intrenchment  on  the  other  side 
of  the  run.  We  pressed  then*  left  flank,  for 
several  hours,  with    terrible  effect;    but  their 


36  LIFE    AXD    DEEDS    OF 

men  flinched  not,  until  their  number  had  been 
so  diminished  by  the  well  aimed  and  steady 
volleys,  that  they  were  compelled  to  give  way 
for  new  regiments. 

At  two  o'clock,  the  result  hung  trembling 
in  the  balance.  We  had  lost  many  of  our  dis- 
tinguished officers,  and  our  ranks  diminished 
fearfully.  The  rebels  had  lost  heavily.  Gen- 
erals Bartow  and  Bee  had  been  stricken  down; 
Col.  Johnson,  of  the  Hampton  Legion,  had 
been  killed ;  Col.  Hampton  had  been  wounded ; 
but  there  were  at  hand  the  fearless  generals, 
Beauregard,  Johnson,  and  Longstreet,  to 
contend  with.  Our  generals  were  still  hope- 
ful; but  the  musketry  on  our  side  was  getting 
faint;  and  the  great  guns  of  the  enemy, 
unprovoked  from  our  almost  exhausted  bat- 
teries, were  now  but  sparely  fired.  Everything, 
therefore,  indicated  another  lull ;  and  it  could 
not  be  made  certain  to  our  minds  but  that  we 
had  really  won  the  victory,  after  all,  and  that 
the  last  cannonade  was  but  the  angry  finish  of 
the  enemy. 

Suddenly  a  cry  broke  from  the  ranks, rr  Look 
there!     Look  there!"  and,  turning  their  eyes 


Dr.    JOHN  MCGREGOR.  37 

towards  Manassas,  the  whole  of  our  drooping 
regiments,  as  well  as  those  who  were  moving 
to  the  rear,  saw  a  sight  which  none  who  gazed 
upon  it  will  forget.  A  long  way  up  the  rise, 
and  issuing  from  the  enemy's  extreme  left, 
appeared,  slowly  debouching  into  sight,  a  dense 
column  of  infantry,  marching  with  slow  and 
solid  step,  and  looking,  at  this  noiseless  dis- 
tance, like  a  mirage  of  ourselves,  or  the  illusion 
of  a  panorama.  Rod  by  rod  the  massive 
column  lengthened,  not  breaking  off  at  the 
completion  of  a  regiment,  as  we  had  hoped, 
but  still  pouring  on,  and  on,  and  on,  till  one 
regiment  had  lengthened  into  ten.  Even  then 
the  stern  tide  did  not  pause,  for  one  of  its  arms 
turned  downward  along  the  far  side  of  the 
triangle;  and  the  source  of  the  flood,  thus 
relieved,  poured  forth  again,  and  commenced 
lining  the  other  in  like  manner.  Still  the 
solemn  picture  swelled  its  volume,  till  the  ten 
regiments  had  doubled  into  twenty,  and  had 
taken  the  formation  of  three  sides  of  a  hollow 
square.  Our  legions,  though  beginning  to  feel 
the  approach  of  despair,  could  not  take  their 
eyes  from  the  majestic  pageant;  and,  though 


38  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

experiencing  a  new  necessity,  were  frozen  to 
the  sight.  The  martial  tide  flowed  on,  the 
lengthening  regiments  growing  into  thirty 
thousand  men,  with  a  mass  of  black  cavalry  in 
its  center;  the  whole  moving  toward  us,  as  the 
sun  danced  upon  its  pomp  of  bayonets,  with 
the  same  solemn  step.  This  was  Avar,  compact, 
well  made,  and  reasoning  war.  It  was  war, 
too,  in  all  its  pomp  and  glory,  as  well  as  in  its 
strength;  and  wre  at  once  comprehended  we 
Ave  re  beaten. 

Gen.  Patterson  had  let  Gen.  Kirby  Smith 
slip  through  his  fingers,  Avith  his  thirty  thou- 
sand; and  the  tide  of  battle  turned  in  their 
favor  by  the  arrival  of  Gen.  Kirby  Smith  from 
Winchester,  with  his  fresh  thousands;  and  our 
Waterloo  was  lost.  Among  the  last  to  turn 
their  faces  from  the  fight  they  had  so  gaily 
sought,  Avas  the  Burnside  brigade,  which, 
accompanied  by  Gov.  Sprague  and  its  gallant 
Brigadier,  and  headed  by  its  colonels,  retired 
in  line  of  battle  with  orders  to  coArer  the  retreat. 

As  I  am  not  writing  a  history  of  the  Avar,  I 
will  give  a  description  of  scenes,  only  where 
the  doctor  Avas  one  of  the  actors.     The  first 


Vu.   JOHN    McaREGOR.  39 

reliable  information  we  received  concerning  the 
doctor,  after  the  battle,  was  by  a  letter  from 
Alexander  Warner,  Major  of  the  third  Con- 
necticut regiment.  The  following  is  the 
contents  of  the  letter. 


Camp  Keyes,  Washington,  Aug  1st.  1861. 
Mr.  J.  McGregor  : 

Dear  Sir. 

Your  letter  came  to  hand  last  evening,  and 
I  hasten  to  give  you  the  information  yon  desire.  Your  son. 
Dr.  McGregor,  was  surgeon  of  our  regiment.  The  morning  of 
July  21st,  he  went  with  his  regiment  to  the  battle  held,  and 
there  stopped  at  a  house  which  was  to  be  used  as  a  hospital  for 
our  wounded.  He  remained  there  through  the  day,  faithfully 
attending  to  his  duties.  When  the  retreat  was  ordered,  I  rode 
up  to  the  hospital.  The  doctor  came  to  the  door,  all  besmeared 
with  blood.  I  told  him  that  a  retreat  was  ordered,  and,  for  his 
own  safety,  lie  had  better  leave  at  once.  He  asked  me  if  there 
was  any  preparation  for  removing  the  wounded  men.  I  told 
ldm  there  was  not.  He  then  turned  and  went  into  the  hospital. 
As  he  turned,  he  said.  ••  Major,  I  cannot  leave  the  wounded  men, 
and  I  shall  stay  with  them,  and  let  the  result  follow."  That  was 
the  last  time  I  saw  him,  and  1  did  not  know  what  had  become 
of  him  until,  a  day  or  two  ago,  a  prisoner,  belonging  to  the 
fourth  Maine  regiment,  made  his  escape  from  Manassas;  and  he 
saw  the  doctor  there,  attending  to  our  Mounded  men.  I  have 
no  doubt  but  that,  in  due  time,  the  doctor  will  return  to  us.  I 
am  very  happy  to  be  able  to  give  you  the  above  information,  as 
to  the  whereabouts  of  your  son :  and  anything  I  can  do  for  you. 
in  relation  to  him.  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do.  We  miss  the 
doctor  very  much,  as  he  was  highly  respected  by  all  of  our  vox- 


40  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

iment.     I  shall  see  the  doctor's  wife  as  soon  as  1  get  home,  and 
ifive  her  all  the  particulars.     If   there  is  anything  I  can  do  for 
you,  in  any  way,  please  let  me  know. 
Yours  very  truly, 

Alexander  Warner, 

Major  of  the  third  Connect icnl  regiment. 

The  part  of  his  history  while  he  was  a  pris- 
oner in  the  rebels'  hands,  and  the  account  of 
his  sufferings  while  in  those  loathsome  prisons, 
and  of  the  many  scenes  in  which  he  was  one 
of  the  actors,  are  written  from  a  description 
which  he  gave  himself.  His  account  of  his 
imprisonment,  his  trials,  his  sufferings,  and  of 
some  of  the  blood-curdling  deeds  which  he 
saw  done,  is  as  follows. 

First,  after  our  army  was  ordered  to  retreat, 
many  of  our  regiments  passed  within  view  of 
my  hospital.  It  was  a  lonesome  time  for  me, 
I  assure  you.  Seeing  our  army  retreating,  and 
knowing  that  very  soon  I  should  be  surrounded 
and  taken  prisoner  by  those  rebels  whom  I 
despised,  was  not  very  pleasant,  to  say  the 
least  of  it.  Very  soon  I  could  hear  the  rebels 
shouting,  "  Victory  !"  and  soon  on  they  came, 
more   like  demons  from    the  infernal   refifions 


DR     JOUST    MCGREGOR.  41 

than  civilized  men.  Abont  this  time  the  69th 
Xew  York  regiment,  a  regiment  of  Zouaves, 
commanded  by  Col.  Michael  Corcoran,  came 
marching  along,  all  in  good  order;  but  you 
could  see  by  their  movements  that  they  were 
terribly  disappointed.  You  could  also  see, 
that  if  they  were  obliged  to  retreat,  they  would 
not  run  like  a  flock  of  frightened  sheep,  but 
would  retreat  like  men  who  had  been  trained 
to  obey  orders. 

On  came  the  howling  rebels,  flush  with  vic- 
tory. Soon  that  noted  Black  Horse  cavalry 
came  rushing  down  upon  these  Zouaves.  It 
Avas  the  most  splendid  company  of  horsemen 
I  ever  saw.  Every  horse  was  as  black  as  the 
raven's  wings.  Every  man  showed  that  he 
had  been  trained  by  a  master  of  no  small  intel- 
lect. They  were  armed  to  the  teeth;  and  their 
horses  were  beautifully  caparisoned.  I  learned 
afterward  that  that  company  was  composed  of 
rich  men's  sons,  and  it  was  really  the  flower 
of  the  South. 

The  69th,  on  going  on  to  the  battle  field,  had 
disrobed  themselves  of  everything  except  their 
pants  and  fighting  utensils,  which  made  them 


4r'2  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

look  rather  peculiar.  They,  also,  were  armed 
to  the  teeth,  and  as  no  other  regiment  was 
armed.  I  remember  how  those  long  saber-bay- 
onets glistened.  I  knew  those  men  knew  how 
to  use  them,  as  well  as  those  long  sheath  knives 
which  they  earned  in  their  girdles.  I  had  seen 
that  regiment  go  through  with  their  peculiar 
drill,  and  I  knew  that  whatever  company 
attacked  that  regiment  would  suffer.  The 
09th  was  composed  of  men  selected  for  that 
particular  regiment.  They  were  the  worst 
men  that  could  he  found  in  the  city  of  .Xew 
York.  At  least,  such  was  their  reputation. 
They  were  allowed  to  fight  according  to  their 
own  peculiar  way. 

When  I  saw  that  splendid  company  of  cav- 
alry swooping  down  upon  that  regiment  of 
Zouaves,  I  knew  that  there  would  he  a  terrible 
battle.  Instead  of  forming  a  square,  as  most 
regiments  would  have  done,  to  protect  them- 
selves from  the  charge  which  that  company 
of  cavalry  was  soon  to  make  upon  them,  they 
opened  ranks  and  let  those  horsemen  ride  right 
in  among  them.  Then  came  a  scene  which 
can   never   he   fullv    described.      Then    those 


Dn.   JOHX   McGEEGOR.  4:3 

Zouaves  showed  their  peculiar  mode  of  fight- 
ing. Within  two  minutes,  the  two  regiments 
were  all  mixed  up,  each  man  fighting  on  his 
own  hook.  This  was  just  what  those  Zouaves 
wanted.  They  had  been  brought  up  in  just 
such  scones.  They  had  been  drilled  in  that 
mode  of  fighting.  They  were  in  their  glory 
now.  Now  was  the  time  when  those  knives 
became  useful.  Horses  went  down  as  by  mag- 
ic; riders  were  unseated  for  the  last  time.  In 
less  than  twenty  minutes,  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  the  dead  and  dying, —  men  and 
horses  in  one  promiscuous  heap. 

THE  BLACK  HORSE  CAVALRY. 

We  waited  for  their  coming  beside  that  craggy  run. 
And  gaily  shone  their  trappings  and  glistened  in  the  sun. 
We  saw  the  well  kept  horses  and  marked  the  stalwart  men. 
And  each'  Zouave  his  long  knife  took  and  tried  the  charge  again. 

On,  on  they  came  in  elose  set  ranks;  (),  'twas  a  goodly  sight ! 
Their  horses  shone  like  ebony,  their  arms  were  burnished  bright. 
A  breathless  silence;  then  there  came  a  ringing  down  the  van, 
"Lie  low  !  Remember  Ellsworth  !  Let  each  one  pick  his  man." 

A  thousand  rifle  flashes;  then  shrieks  and  groans  of  pain, 
While  clouds  of  dust  uprising  over  the  fatal  plain, 


14  LIFE    AXI)   DEEDS    OF 

While  the  gleaming  bayonets  seemed  like  the  lightning's  Hash. 
A  cry,  "Remember  Ellsworth!"  and  the  deadly  forward  dash. 

Silence; — horses  riderless  and  scouring  from  the  fray. 
While  here  and  there  a  trooper  spurs  his  worn  steed  away. 
The  smoke  dispels  —  the  dust  blows  off — subsides  the  fatal  stir. 
Virginia's  Black  Horse  Cavalry  are  with  the  things  that  were. 

A  wailing  on  the  sunny  slopes  along  the  Shenandoah ; 
A  weeping  where  the  York  and  James'  deep  rolling  torrents  pour : 
Where  Rappahannock  peaceful  glides  on  many  a  fertile  plain, 
A  cry  of  anguish  for  the  loved  who  ne'er  may  come  again. 

The  widow  clasps  the  fatherless  in  silent,  speechless  grief, 
Or  weeps  as  if  in  flood  of  tears  the  soul  could  And  relief. 
The  Old  Dominion  weeps,  and  mourns  full  many  a  gallant  son 
Who  sleeps  upon  that  fatal  held  beside  that  craggy  run. 

()  matrons  of  Virginia!  with  you  has  been  the  blame. 

It  was  for  you  to  bend  the  twig  before  its  ripeness  came ; 

For  you  a  patriot  love  to  form,  a  loyal  mind  to  nurse; 

Yet  ye  have  left  your  task  undone,  and  now  ye  feel  the  curse. 

Think  ye  Virginia  can  stand  and  bar  the  onward  way 
Of  Freedom  in  her  glorious  march,  and  conquer  in  the  fray? 
Have  you  so  soon  the  truths  forgot  which  Washington  let  fall, 
To  cherish  Freedom  ever,  and  Union  above  all? 

Go  to !  for  thou  art  fallen,  and  lost  thy  high  estate, — 
Forgotten  all  thy  glories ;  ignoble  be  thy  fate ! 
Yet  from  the  past's  experience  a  lesson  may  be  won  : 
Though  all  thy  fields  be  steeped -in  blood,  still  Freedom's  march 
is  on. 


DR.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  45 

The  South  was,  on  that  day,  taught  a  lesson 
which  they  never  will  forget.  Col.  Corcoran, 
and  most  of  the  living  Zouaves,  were  taken 
prisoners.  Months  after,  I  had  a  chance  to 
study  his  character.  I  was  in  the  same  prisons 
with  him,  and  shared  the  insults  and  privations 
of  the  necessaries  of  life,  while  in  those  prisons. 

Soon  after  that  fight  between  the  Black 
Horse  cavalry  and  the  Zouaves,  my  hospital 
was  surrounded,  and  we  were  all  taken  pris- 
oners. A  strong  guard  was  placed  around,  and 
then  I  realized  the  value  of  freedom.  At  the 
time  that  Major  Warner  rode  up  to  inform  me 
tli at  a  retreat  was  ordered,  Lafayette  Foster, 
United  States  senator  from  Connecticut,  was 
in  my  hospital.  He  had  been  helping  me  nearly 
all  day.     When  he  heard  me  say  that  I  should 

%j  %J 

not  leave  those  men,  he  turned  to  me,  and  said, 
K Doctor,  what  shall  I  do,  go  or  stay?"  I 
advised  him  to  leave  immediately,  for  I  did  not 
consider  that  it  was  his  duty  to  stay.  He 
shook  hands  with  me,  and  said,  rp  Doctor,  be 
hopeful.  Good  by."  He  was  the  last  man 
whom  I  spoke  with  from  the  North,  except  the 
prisoners,  for  many  months.     Night  came  on. 


46  LTFE    AXD    DKKDS    OF 

I  watched  over  those  poor  wounded  men  all 
night,  doing*  what  I  could  to  relieve  their  suf- 
fering. Before  morning,  a  number  of  them 
had  passed  from  earth.  I  did  not  once  think 
that  our  army  would  retreat  so  far.  I  expected, 
that  the  battle  would  be  renewed  on  the  next 
day.  How  anxious  I  was  to  hear  the  booming 
of  our  Northern  cannon  once  more ;  but  when 
the  next  day  closed,  and  no  sound  save  the 
groans  of  the  wounded  and  the  jeers  of  the 
rebels,  I  felt  as  if  all  was  lost.  I  will  mention 
a  few  incidents  which  occurred  while  I  was  at 
that  hospital,  and  then  I  will  pass  to  other  fields 
and  other  scenes. 

An  officer  belonging  to  the  regiment  of 
Zouaves  known  as  the  Ellsworth  Zouaves,  was 
brought  into  my  hospital.  (The  reader  will 
remember  Col.  Ellsworth  was  shot  in  a  hotel 
at  Alexandria,  by  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel, 
named  Jackson.)  This  Zouave  officer  was 
mortally  wounded,  and,  on  the  following  clay, 
he  died.  Soon  after  his  death,  a  man,  or  rather 
something  in  shape  of  a  man,  came  into  the 
hospital.  I  learned  afterward  that  his  name 
was  Jackson,  and  that  he  was  brother  to  the 


Du.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  47 

one  who  shot  Col.  Ellsworth.  Seeing  that 
Zouave  lying  there  helpless  and  dead,  he 
walked  up  to  where  he  lay,  took  hold  of  his 
hand,  and,  while  he  was  looking  at  him,  discov- 
ered a  ring  upon  his  finger.  He  instantly 
recognized  that  ring.  It  was  a  ring  given  to 
this  Zouave  by  a  beautiful  girl  in  Alexandria, 
as  a  parting  gift.  He  no  doubt  had  promised 
to  wear  that  ring  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  he 
had  kept  his  word.  Jackson  had  offered  him- 
self to  the  same  girl,  and  had  been  refused. 
Xow  was  the  time  for  revenge.  Before  he 
could  be  stopped,  he  had  severed  that  finger 
from  the  hand ;  and,  as  he  fled,  he  was  heard 
to  say,  KI  will  carry  this  ring  back  to  the  giver, 
and  tell  her  that  I  have  had  my  revenge."  T 
was  unarmed,  and  in  one  sense  helpless;  and 
I  am  now  glad  that  I  was,  for  my  hands  arc 
not  stained  with  that  man's  blood. 

I  will  mention  one  other  incident  before  I 
leave  the  hospital,  and  I  do  it  to  show  how 
strongly  a  horse  will  sometimes  become  at- 
tached to  his  master.  An  officer  was  brought 
into  the  hospital,  the  next  morning,  in  a  dying 
condition.     His  horse  was  also  wounded,  but 


IS  LIFE    A XI)    DKEDS    OF 

was  standing. beside  his  master  when  the  offi- 
cer was  discovered.  The  horse  followed  them 
to  the  hospital,  and  hung  around  all  day.  The 
officer  was  buried,  the  next  day,  not  far  from 
the  hospital.  The  horse  seemed  to  know  that 
it  was  his  master  whom  they  buried,  for  he 
stayed  by  that  grave  as  long  as  I  stayed  at  the 
hospital.  I  dressed  his  wound  and  did  every- 
thing I  could  for  the  poor  horse.  It  was 
distressing  to  see  that  horse  walking  or  paw- 
ing, and  occasionally  neighing,  around  his 
master's  grave.  What  became  of  him  I  know 
not. 

On  the  25th  of  July,  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  Gen.  Beauregard.  He  told  me  that 
I  was  to  go  to  Richmond  with  the  rest  of  the 
prisoners',  and  after  the  wounded  recovered  so 
that  they  would  not  need  my  assistance,  I 
should  be  exchanged.  But  when  that  time 
came,  Gen.  Beauregard  was  leading  his  army 
on  other  battle  fields ;  and  I  never  saw  or  heard 
from  him,  after  I  was  placed  under  the  control 
of  the  most  heartless  men  that  the  sun  ever 
shone  upon. 

I  never  shall  forget   our  journey   to  Rich- 


Dn.    JOHN   MCGREGOK.  49 

mond.  The  wounded  suffered  terribly.  At 
places  where  the  train  stopped,  the  wounded 
would  beg  for  water,  but  they  were  almost 
always  refused.  They  were  insulted  in  every 
conceivable  way.  The  engineer  would  pull 
the  throttle  out  and  start  the  train  very  sud- 
denly, then  reverse  the  steam  and  stop  per- 
fectly still,  then  start  again,  and  continue 
starting  and  stopping  for  a  long  time,  on  pur- 
pose to  annoy  those  poor  wounded  men.  All 
the  while,  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  about 
the  depot  would  be  shouting,  "Give  it  to  them." 

We  at  last  arrived  at  Richmond.  I  had  got 
there  sooner  than  I  expected,  when  I  left  my 
home,  and  I  had  arrived  there  under  different 
circumstances  from  what  I  had  ever  antici- 
pated. We  were  huddled  into  a  large  brick 
building,  and  a  strong  guard  was  placed  around 
us.  We  soon  found  out  that  the  building  had 
been  used  for  a  tobacco  factory.  The  most  of 
us  could  endure  the  strong  smell  of  tobacco, 
but  before  we  got  out,  we  found  that  the  disa- 
greeable scent  of  tobacco  was  a  little  part  of 
what  we  had  to  endure. 

While    at    Richmond,  I  became    intimately 


50  LIFE    AND    DKKDS    OF 

acquainted  with  Michael  Corcoran,  colonel  of 
the  69th,  and  for  months  after  had  a  good 
chance  to  study  his  character.  While  at 
Richmond,  an  occurrence  took  place  which 
proved  very  much  to  my  disadvantage.  A 
number  of  the  prisoners  escaped  from  the 
prison.  Soon  after,  I  was  summoned  to  appear 
before  the  body  of  men  who,  it  seemed,  had 
charge  of  the  prison.  I  was  questioned  con- 
cerning those  men  who  had  escaped.  I  was 
asked,  among  other  questions,  if  I  knew  that 
those  men  were  calculating  to  escape.  I  told 
them  that  I  did  know  that  they  intended  to 
make  the  attempt.     They  asked  me  why  I  did 

not  inform  them  of  the  fact.  My  answer  dis- 
pleased them  very  much,  and  I  could  plainly 

see  that  my  doom  was  sealed.     By  some  means 

or  other,  they  had  also  taken  a  dislike  to  Col. 

Corcoran.     We  always  expressed  our  opinions 

upon  all  subjects,  when  asked,  but  time  proved 

that  we  had  to  suffer  on  account  of  our  honest 

opinions. 

We    were    soon    sent    to    Charleston    jail. 

Charleston   is  situated    on  a  tongue    of  land 

formed  by  the  junction  of  Cooper  and  Ashley 


Dr.    JOHX   MCGREGOR.  51 

rivers,  which  communicate  with  the  ocean 
seven  miles  below.  The  plan  of  the  city  is 
regular,  its  streets  crossing  each  other  at  right 
angles.  The  harbor  is  guarded  by  Fort  Sum- 
ter, at  the  entrance.  Fort  Sumter  stands  on  a 
little  island,  about  four  miles  from  the  city. 
Fort  Moultrie  and  Castle  Pinckney  also  guard 
the  city.  The  journey  from  Richmond  to 
Charleston  was  a  dreary  one.  If  I  am  any 
judge,  the  country  is  very  poor  in  many 
respects.  The  negroes  lived  in  huts;  and 
their  masters  lived  in  houses,  which  were  set 
upon  posts  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground.  In 
many  places  the  hogsty  was  underneath  the 
house.  When  we  arrived  at  the  jail,  we  were 
received  by  the  jailer,  and  conducted  to  our 
cells. 

We  arrived  in  Charleston  soon  after  the 
North  had  taken  a  crew  who  called  themselves 
privateers.  The  North  called  them  pirates. 
We  expected  that  the  North  would  hang  every 
one  of  them,  and  expressed  ourselves  accord- 
ingly. We  were  not  long  in  our  new  quarters 
before  we  were  called  upon  by  some  of  the 
dignitaries    of    Charleston.       At    first,    they 


52  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

seemed  pleased  to  form  our  acquaintance,  and 

said  that  they  would  do  all  they  could  to  make 
our  visit  pleasant.  Very  soon,  one  of  the  party 
went  to  a  window,  and  called  our  attention  to 
an  object  which  was  in  the  prison  yard.  On 
looking  out,  we  saw  the  same  number  of  ropes 
suspended,  with  loops  at  the  ends,  that  there 
were  of  the  pirates  which  the  Xorth  had  just 
taken.  Turning  to  us,  with  a  leer  such  as  none 
but  a  Southerner  can  express,  he  said, rr  Gentle- 
men, if  your  Xorthern  friends  hang  those 
privateers,  just  so  many  of  you  will  hang 
there."  Col.  Corcoran  straightened  himself 
up,  and,  with  defiance  flashing  in  his  eyes,  made 
this  reply:*" We  all  realize  that  we  are  in  your 
power,  at  present,  and  we  know  that  you  can 
do  with  us  as  you  please.  It  is  the  duty  of  the 
North  to  hang  those  men,  and  I  hope  that  they 
will  not  shirk  their  duty."  And  many  of  the 
prisoners  said,  fr  Amen !"  Those  brazen  faced 
men  soon  left  the  cell,  and  we  saw  them  no 
more. 

While  at  Richmond,  we  had  food  enough, 
such  as  it  was,  but  now  it  was  very  scant.  The 
prison  was  very  filthy,  and  well  stocked  with 


t)K.   JOHN   MCGREGOR.  53 

vermin.  Our  Bufferings  were  intensified.  We 
now  disposed  of  everything  of  any  value  which 
we  had,  exeept  the  dirty  clothes  which  we  had 
on  our  backs,  to  procure  food  and  medicine. 
'What  will  come  next?"  was  the  question  often 
asked,  hut  seldom  answered.  Still  we  were 
hopeful. 

The  jail  was  a  large  brick  building  on  Broad 
street.  We  were  confined  in  an  upper  room, 
the  windows  of  which  were  barred,  and  closed 
with  iron  shutters,  except  one  very  small  one, 
overlooking  a  very  narrow  street  in  the  rear  of 
the  building.  One  night  we  heard  the  cry  of 
"Fire!  Fire!"  and  our  prison  cell,  for  the  first 
time  since  we  arrived,  was  illuminated.  As 
nearly  as  we  could  judge,  the  fire  broke  out  in 
a  gas  house,  next  door  to  a  sash  and  blind 
factory.  The  fire  spread  with  great  rapidity. 
Great  efforts  were  made  to  extinguish  it,  with- 
out the  slightest  effect.  The  engines,  worked 
by  negroes,  seemed  utterly  powerless,  and  the 
flames  spread,  finally,  to  the  jail.  The  roof 
soon  took  fire.  Xo  movement  was  made  to  let 
the  prisoners  out.  We  could  hear  the  guards 
making  the  doors  more  secure.     At  first  we 


54  LIFE    A XI)    DEEDS    OF 

were  not  alarmed,  for  we  expected,  in  case  the 
fire  should  reach  the  jail,  we  should  be  lei  out; 
but  when  we  heard  the  cry,  "The  jail  is  on 
fire!"  and  heard  the  guards  making  the  door 
more  secure,  we  were  dismayed.  At  that  time1 
our  room  was  so  filled  with  smoke  that  we 
expected  very  soon  to  be  suffocated.  We 
formed  ourselves  into  a  circle  and  commenced 
marching  around,  and  as  we  passed  by  the 
window  we  would  take  a  breath  and  then  pass 
on.  The  heat  was  becoming  intense;  but  at 
last  the  fire  was  subdued  and  we  were  saved, 
for  what  purpose  we  knew  not.  At  this  time 
our  allowance  of  food  was  one  pint  of  oatmeal 
and  one  quart  of  stagnant  water  a  day. 

Soon  after  the  fire,  we  were  removed  to 
Castle  Pinckney,  where  our  sufferings  were 
beyond  description.  [The  author  would  at- 
tempt to  give  a  partial  description,  but  he 
knows  that  some  of  the  doctor's  relatives  would 
say,  fr  Please  forbear."] 

After  a  while,  we  were  removed  from  Castle 
Pinckney  to  Columbia.  Columbia  is  pleasantly 
situated  near  the  center  of  the  state,  at  the 
confluence  of  Broad  and  Saluda  rivers,  which, 


Dr.   JOHN   MCGREGOR.  55 

when  united,  form  the  Congaree.  I  think  that 
the  rebels  were  afraid  that  we  might  be  rescued, 
was  why  they  removed  us  to  an  inland  prison. 

You  would  be  surprised  to  know  how  much 
news  we  gathered  while  we  were  in  those  pris- 
ons. Our  eyes  and  ears  were  constantly 
open,  and  we  were  constantly  on  the  alert. 
"We  caught  every  sound  within  our  hearing, 
and  everything  which  passed  within  our  vision 
was  thoroughly  scanned.  "We  gathered  a 
great  deal  of  information  by  hearing  the  boys 
and  negroes  talking  in  the  streets. 

One  more  incident  I  must  not  omit  concern- 
ing our  prospects  while  we  were  in  Charleston. 
One  morning,  while  we  were  in  Charleston 
jail,  an  old  man  made  his  appearance  at  the  pris- 
on, and  asked  permission  to  see  Col.  Corcoran. 
At  first  he  was  refused,  but  after  a  consultation 
with  the  prison  officials,  he  was  admitted.  He 
was  a  man  of  medium  height,  with  gray  hair, 
and  large  dark  eyes.  His  general  appearance 
denoted  that  he  was  no  ordinary  man.  What 
his  business  was  with  Col.  Corcoran,  we  could 
not  conjecture.  They  had  an  interview  in  one 
cornei-  of  our  cell,  and  we  could  see  by  the 


.">()  LIFE    AM)    DEEDS    OF 

colonel's  manner,  that  this  man  was  not  an 
enemy.  After  his  departure,  Col.  Corcoran, 
with  tears  glistening  in  his  eyes,  turned  to  us 
and  said,  "Comrades,  we  have  a  friend  who 
has  power  to  enter  our  cell."  And  we  all,  as 
if  in  concert,  said, " Bless  the  Lord!"  He  was 
a  Catholic  priest  of  high  standing'.  He  followed 
ns  to  Columbia,  and  through  him  the  colonel 
obtained  money,  medicine,  and  clothing.  If  it 
had  not  been  for  that  old  priest,  Ave  could  not 
have  lived.  After  we  left  Columbia,  we  saw 
him  no  more.  God  bless  that  old  man!  He 
will  receive  his  reward  after  he  has  passed 
through  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven. 

Our  suffering,  while  at  Columbia,  was  not  so 
great  as  it  was  at  Charleston.  We  had  more 
and  better  food,  and  the  prison  officials  seemed 
to  be  a  little  more  humane.  By  catching  a 
word  here  and  a  word  there,  we  kept  better 
posted  than  any  one  would  think  it  possible 
for  us  to  do.  Nothing  transpired  while  we 
were  at  Columbia  worth  relating.  It  was 
about  the  same  old  prison  life. 

We  were  removed  from  Columbia  back  to 
Richmond.     This  was  in  the  spring  of  1862. 


Dr.    JOHN   McOREGOR.  57 

I  found  Richmond  prison  about  the  same  as 
when  I  left  it,  only  more  filthy.  From  what 
we  could  learn,  we  concluded  that  the  TsTorth 
was  still  hopeful,  and  determined  to  put  down 
the  rebellion,  at  whatever  sacrifice  it  might 
cost.  At  that  time  I  was  very  much  broken 
down. 

I  was  removed  from  Richmond  to  Salisbury. 
At  that  prison  the  prisoners  suffered  fearfully. 
Food  was  very  scarce,  and  disease  was  sending 
many  of  the  prisoners  out  of  hearing  of  the 
clamor  of  men.  The  prisoners  at  Salisbury 
were  confined  in  an  open  lot,  or  more  strictly 
speaking,  in  an  open  pen.  This  pen  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  board  fence,  and  the  prisoners 
were  guarded  by  men  of  the  lowest  type  of 
humanity.  The  poor  prisoners  did  not  need 
much  guarding,  for  most  of  them  were  so  fee- 
ble and  emaciated  that  they  could  not  have 
escaped  if  they  could  have  had  a  chance. 
They  were  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  weather, 
most  of  them  without  shelter  of  any  kind. 
Many  dug  holes  to  crawl  into  to  protect 
themselves  from  the  scorching  sun  in  sum- 
mer, or  the  cold  storms  in  winter.     Food  and 


58  l AVE    AM)    DKKDS    OK 

water  were  of  the  poorest  kind.  All  the  water 
they  had  was  taken  from  a  sluggish  pool 
which  was  in  one  corner  of  the  pen,  mingled 
with  all  kinds  of  filth,  and  surrounded  with  the 
miasma  of  death.  Oh,  that  prison  pen  at  Sal- 
isbury! We  not  only  had  to  endnre  the  fam- 
ine and  the  fever,  but  the  fiendish  looking 
eyes  of  those  rebels  glared  at  ns.  Such  is  a 
passing  glimpse  of  the  prison  yard  at  Salis- 
bury. 

At  this  time  all  hopes  of  ever  seeing  my 
friends  or  home  again  had  almost  vanished.  I 
had  not  heard  one  word  from  my  wife  or  any 
of  my  friends,  since  I  was  taken  prisoner.  I 
knew  that  my  friends  would  do  all  that  mortal 
friends  could  do  for  me.  I  also  knew  that  my 
wrife  would  be  almost  insane,  and  that  my  poor 
old  father  and  mother  would  suffer  terribly  on 
account  of  my  being  where  they  could  not 
know  how  I  was  faring,  but  I  was  glad  they 
could  not.  I  knew  that  all  avenues  through 
which  my  friends  could  reach  me,  were  securely 
closed.  I  was  sure  that  I  could  not  live  much 
longer  under  such  treatment.  Despondency 
was  strongly  affecting  my  mind.     I  would  turn 


DR.    JOITN"   MCGREGOR.  59 

my  mind  homeward,  and  hope  that  the  founda- 
tion of  our  national  power  still  stood  strong. 
I  had  great  confidence  in  the  ability  of  our 
government,  and  I  felt  assured  that,  sooner  or 
later,  rebellion  would  be  put  down.  Often,  on 
bended  knees,  I  would  ask  God  to  save  our 
country,  and  to  spare  my  life  until  rebellion 
was  wiped  from  our  land. 

At  last,  I  was  taken  from  the  prison  pen  at 
Salisbury,  and  left  upon  the  banks  of  the  James 
river,  completely  destitute.  For  what  purpose 
I  was  left  there,  in  that  condition,  I  can  assign 
but  one  reason,  and  that  is  that  they  left  me 
there  to  die.  I  took  a  survey  of  my  situation, 
and  while  doing  so,  these  words  flashed 
through  my  mind;  "Hope  on,  hope  ever."  I 
was  without  food,  and  my  wardrobe  I  will  not 
attempt  to  describe.  I  had  often  read  about 
Elijah  being  fed  by  the  ravens.  Would  they 
feed  me?  Just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  behind 
the  western  hills,  I  discovered  an  old  negro 
stealthily  approaching  me.  Was  he  friend  or 
foe?  That  was  the  question  which  ran  through 
my  mind.  As  he  came  near,  I  discovered  that 
he  had  a  basket  in  his  hand,  and  that  he  Avas 


60  LIFE    AND    DEEDS   OF 

constantly  scanning  the  country  in  every  direc- 
tion, as  if  he  was  about  to  do  something  which 
he  wished  to  keep  secret.  Just  before  he  got 
to  where  I  was  standing,  he  stopped,  and 
looked  in  every  direction.  After  convincing 
himself  that  there  was  no  one  in  sight  of  us, 
he  approached  me.  Setting  the  basket  down, 
he  said, rf  This  will  keep  mas'r  alive ;  best  I  got." 
He  turned  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  The 
raven  had  come.  The  basket  contained  what 
those  negroes  call  hoe  cakes.  I  ate  a  good 
supper,  and  laid  myself  down  to  rest.  I  slept 
the  best  that  night  I  had  for  months.  The 
next  morning  I  felt  refreshed.  Everything 
was  still,  and  that  was  something  new  to  me. 
The  food  seemed  to  strengthen  me.  I  felt  like 
a  new  man.  The  next  day,  my  mind  was  occu- 
pied with  different  plans  concerning  how  I 
should  cross  the  river;  but  before  my  plans 
were  consummated,  I  discovered  a  steamer 
coming  up  the  river.  It  was  coming  very 
slowly,  and  to  all  appearance  was  out  recon- 
noitering.  I  could  see  that  the  men  were 
scanning  the  banks  of  the  river.  I  was  soon 
convinced    that   it  was    a   Northern    steamer. 


Dr.   JOHN   MCGREGOR.  61 

The  following  lines  had  been  running  through 
my  mind  all  that  day. 

Lead,  kindly  Light,  amid  the  encircling  gloom. 
Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 

The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home ; 
Lead  Thou  me  on  ! 

Keep  Thou  my  feet !     I  do  not  care  to  see 
The  former  scenes;  O  banish  them  from  me ! 

As  the  steamer  slowly  moved  Tip  the  river, 
something  seemed  to  say,  "Now  is  the  time  for 
yon  to  make  an  exertion."  I  at  once  began  to 
do  everything  which  I  could  to  attract  their 
attention.  Soon  I  was  overjoyed  to  see  the 
steamer  stop.  I  could  see  that  they  were  low- 
ering a  boat,  and  soon  I  saw  them  pulling  for 
the  shore.  At  first  they  thought  that  I  was 
placed  there  as  a  decoy  to  entrap  them;  but 
after  the  captain  had  viewed  me  through  his 
glass,  he  thought  otherwise,  and  ordered  his 
men  to  come  and  see  what  I  wanted.  I  told 
those  men  that  1  had  been  a  prisoner  a  long- 
time, and  wished  to  get  once  more  within  the 
Union  lines.  They  took  me  to  the  steamer, 
and    I  once    more    stood    beneath    our   starrv 


()2  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

banner,  free. 

I  had  come  out  of  those  loathsome  prisons 
as  people  generally  do  who  are  imprisoned  for 
conscience'  sake,  more  devoted  than  ever  to  the 
cause  for  which  I  suffered.  I  was  kindly 
received  by  all  on  board  of  the  steamer,  and 
everything  done  for  me  which  could  be  done 
to  make  me  comfortable.  The  captain,  seeing 
my  feeble  condition,  ordered  all  the  officers 
and  crew  not  to  annoy  me  by  asking  questions. 
I  told  the  captain  my  name,  and  that  I  was 
surgeon  of  the  third  Connecticut  regiment. 
He  told  me  that  he  had  often  heard  me  spoken 
of  by  many  noted  men.  My  filthy  wardrobe 
was  exchanged  for  one  more  comfortable  and 
better  adapted  to  my  station.  My  hair  was 
cut  and  I  was  thoroughly  shampooed,  and  ere 
long  I  was  on  my  way  to  Washington. 

As  soon  as  I  arrived  in  Washington,  I  was 
taken  to  a  hotel  and  had  a  long  interview  with 
many  of  the  dignitaries.  Afterward  I  had  an 
interview  with  the  President  and  Secretary 
Stanton.  At  that  time  all  the  reliable  infor- 
mation which  could  be  gathered  concerning  the 
rebels''  movements,  was  highly  prized.     I  was 


Dr.   JOHN  McGOREGOB.  63 

constantly  surrounded  by  reporters,  but  after 
I  had  given  the  President  and  Secretary  Stan- 
ton all  the  information  which  I  could  concern- 
ing the  South,  I  closed  the  doors  upon  the 
reporters.  The  newspaper  men  and  the  tele- 
graph companies  were  posting  their  patrons 
with  all  the  news  which  they  could  glean  from 
every  source.  It  was  not  strange  that  the 
people  were  anxious  to  learn  all  they  could 
concerning  the  war,  for  there  was  hardly  a 
family  but  what  had  relatives  in  our  army. 
Still  it  was  very  important  to  keep  some  of  the 
information  which  was  procured  by  our  leading 
men  concerning  the  rebels'  movements  out  of 
the  papers,  for  the  rebels  would,  in  spite  of  all 
we  could  do,  get  hold  of  our  newspapers  and 
be  much  benefited. 

Long  before  I  reached  Washington,  the 
particulars  of  my  escape  were  published  in  the 
papers  and  the  telegraph  wires  had  carried 
them  to  the  remotest  parts  of  the  North.  My 
friends  at  Thompson  and  other  places  had 
heard  the  vibrations  as  the  wires  carried  the 
glad  tidings  with  lightning  speed  throughout 
the  countrv. 


()4  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

As  soon  as  Gol.  Corcoran    heard   that  the 

doctor  was  once  more  in  the  land  of  the  free, 
lie  hastened  to  meet  him.  They  met  at 
Washington,  and  such  a  meeting  is  not  often 
seen.  When  first  they  met,  they  clasped  hands 
and  with  bowed  heads  offered  up  thanks  to 
God  for  their  deliverance.  For  a  long'  time 
neither  coidd  speak.  Probably  the  trials  and 
sufferings  which  they  had  endurecr  together 
while  in  those  Southern  prisons,  flashed 
through  their  minds.  One  of  the  party  who 
came  on  with  Col.  Corcoran  to  escort  the  doc- 
tor to  New  York,  said,  rfI  have  seen  Corcoran 
when  the  chances  for  his  life  Avere  not  one 
in  ten  thousand,  and  where  the  earth  was 
strewn  with  the  dead  and  dying,  but  I  never 
saw  him  affected  as  he  was  at  that  meeting." 
Corcoran  and  his  party  did  everything  in  their 
power  to  make  the  journey  from  Washington 
to  New  York  pleasant  for  the  doctor. 

His  stay  in  New  York  was  very  short,  for 
he  was  very  anxious  to  meet  the  loved  ones  at 
home.  As  he  neared  his  home,  no  doubt  his 
heart  swelled  with  emotion,  foi*  there  would  be 


Dr.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  65 

a  scene  as  trying  to  the  nerves  as  any  which 
he  had  passed  through.  It  was  his  wish  to 
return  in  a  very  quiet  manner.  He  delayed 
his  coming  on  purpose  to  take  his  friends  by 
surprise.  They  expected  him  in  the  morning, 
hnt  he  did  not  come  until  evening.  They  were 
not  disposed  to  have  him  surprise  them  in  his 
coming.  When  he  arrived  at  Thompson  depot, 
a  carriage  stood  waiting  to  take  him  to  his 
home.  As  they  drove  from  the  depot,  he 
thought  his  wish  was  to  be  granted.  It  was 
evening  and  quite  dark.  He  had  questioned 
the  driver  on  many  points,  hnt  the  driver 
seemed  disposed  not  to  be  very  talkative. 
Afterward  he  learned  the  reason  why  the 
driver  was  so  mute.  As  he  entered  the  vil- 
lage, the  bells  in  the  steeples  commenced 
ringing  out  the  glad  tidings,  and  at  the  same 
moment  many  familiar  voices  broke  the  still- 
ness  of  the  evening  by  singing  one  of  his 
favorite  hymns,  ffHome  again,  home  again.1' 
He  then  discovered  that  he  was  surrounded  by 
the  village  people,  who  had  turned  out  in  a 
mass  to  receive  him.  He  was  then  escorted 
to  his  home,  the  multitude  dispersed  in  a  quiet 


()()  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

manner,  and  he  was  left  to  enjoy  once  more 
the  presence  of  his  family  friends.  He  arrived 
home  on  Saturday  evening,  August  3d,  1862. 
The  next  day  he  escorted  to  church,  to  all 
appearance,  one  of  the  happiest  women  on 
earth.  The  scene  at  the  church  after  the 
services  were  closed,  can  hetter  he  imagined 
than  described.  The  congregation  encircled 
him,  and  all  were  eager  to  press  his  hand  onee 
more.  For  days  his  home  was  thronged  with 
friends  from  far  and  near,  all  anxious  to  hear 
him  relate  his  experience  while  he  was  in  those 
Southern  prisons. 

At  times  he  was  almost  afraid  that  he  would 
become  demented.  His  experience  in  the  four- 
teen months  seemed  more  like  a  horrid  dream 
than  a  reality;  but  as  time  passed  on,  his  flesh 
and  strength  returned,  his  mind  became  more 
clear,  and  he  was  ready  to  go  at  them  again. 
He  could  not  endure  the  hardships  of  an  army 
life,  but  he  thought  that  he  could  yet  do  some- 
thing for  his  country. 

At  this  time  the  government  was  holding 
out  great  inducements  to  volunteers.  It  was 
reported  that  many  of  the  negroes  at  the  South 


Dh.    JOHX   MCGREGOR.  67 

would  volunteer  if  they  could  get  to  the  North. 
Col.  Nichols  and  the  doctor  concluded  to  go 
to  New  York,  charter  a  steamer,  take  on  board 
what  provisions  they  thought  would  be  neces- 
sary to  supply  the  number  of  men  which  they 
calculated  to  bring  from  the  South,  and  go 
to  Hilton  Head  and  try  their  luck,  thinking 
that  by  so  doing  they  might  aid  and  assist  our 
government.  They  carried  out  their  contem- 
plated plans  to  the  letter,  except  the  main 
point;  they  did  not  get  the  men.  Unforeseen 
orders  passed  by  the  government  soon  after 
they  left  New  York,  were  the  cause  of  their 
failure  to  get  the  men.  A  full  description  of 
that  voyage  would  be  interesting  to  some,  but 
I  will  mention  only  one  incident,  and  then 
pass  on. 

On  the  second  day  after  leaving  Hilton 
Head,  the  captain  discovered  a  ship  which 
acted  rather  strangely.  As  it  came  nearer, 
he  also  discovered  that  it  was  armed  to  the 
teeth.  He  at  once  ordered  the  engineer  to 
make  the  best  time  which  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  do  with  safety.  For  four  hours  the  two 
vessels  tried  their  skill  in  fast  running.     They 


68  LIFE    AND    DEEDS    OF 

could  sec  that  the  vessel  was  slowly  gaining 
upon  them.  Soon  a  Northern  ship  was  seen 
ahead  of  them.  It  proved  to  be  an  armed  ship, 
and  a  ship  was  never  seen  to  change  its  course 
quicker  than  the  one  that  was  chasing  them. 
The  captain  said  that  he  had  no  doubt  it  was 
a  privateer. 

They  landed  at  Xew  York  all  safe  and  sound, 
but  terribly  disappointed.  The  doctor  had 
been  disappointed  so  many  times  that  it  did 
not  affect  him  as  much  as  it  would  some  others. 
One  object  which  they  had  in  going  after  those 
negroes,  was  to  avoid  a  draft  which  would  be 
levied  upon  Connecticut  unless  the  quota  was 
raised  by  men  volunteering. 

What  had  his  friends  been  doing  all  the 
time  while  he  was  a  prisoner?  They  had  been 
doing  everything  in  their  power  for  his  bene- 
fit, but  all  their  doings  were  of  no  avail.  Every 
avenue  through  which  they  thought  he  could 
be  reached  was  thoroughly  closed.  His  wife 
and  sister  went  to  Washington  and  had  an 
interview  with  President  Lincoln  and  Secre- 
tary Stanton  concerning  what  course  to  take 
to  have  him  released  if  he  was  alive.     Stanton 


Dk.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  69 

told  them  that  there  was  but  one  course  for 
them  to  pursue,  and  that  was  by  exchange. 
They  were  willing  to  do  any  and  everything 
which  could  be  done  for  his  release,  or  for  his 
comfort.  They  gave  his  wife  a  writing  author- 
izing her  to  select  any  one  of  the  rebel  officers 
which  the  Xorth  held  as  prisoners  of  war,  and 
for  her  to  take  any  course  to  accomplish  an 
exchange.  The  rebels  were  approached  in 
many  ways,  but  to  no  purpose.  They  would 
not  release  him  under  any  circumstances. 

Dr.  Hosford,  an  eminent  physician,  supplied 
his  place  as  physician  and  surgeon  while  he 
was  away;  and  as  his  health  would  not  admit 
of  his  resuming  his  former  practice  after  he 
returned,  he  was  at  liberty  to  do  whatever  lit- 
tle thing  he  could  for  his  country.  He  spoke 
in  many  different  places,  describing  his  tour  at 
the  South  while  he  was  a  prisoner  in  the  rebels' 
hands,  and  urging  our  young  men  to  stand 
firm  for  our  country  and  to  do  whatever  dutv 
presented  itself  to  them. 

This  narrative  relative  to  his  war  record  is 
in  substance  a  true  narrative,  for  I  had  it  from 
his  own  lips.     A  great  many  other  interesting 


70  LIFE    AM)    DKKDS    OF 

things  might  be  spoken  of,  but  for  fear  of 
wearying  the  reader,  1  will  eease  writing'  about 
the  war  and  let  the  curtain  drop  to  shut  from 
our  view  those  terrible  scenes  which  the  war 
produced; 

This  life  is  something  like  the  seasons  of 
the  year.  To  give  a  relish  to  this  life  we  have 
Spring  and  Autumn,  Summer  and  Winter. 
It  is  our  adversities  which  make  the  pleasures 
of  this  life  enjoyable.  We  must  have  Winter 
to  enjoy  Spring.  Spring  would  be  but  dreary 
weather  if  we  had  nothing  else  but  Spring. 

I  think  that  I  am  safe  in  saying  that  at  this 
time  he  had  a  large  number  of  warm  and 
influential  friends.  After  he  had  somewhat 
recovered  his  health,  his  friends  in  Windham 
County  selected  him  for  their  senator  to  repre- 
sent them  in  the  State  Legislature.  He  told 
his  friends  that  it  would  be  placing  him  out  of 
his  sphere,  and  as  he  had  no  desire  for  the 
position,  he  would  rather  not  accept.  His 
friends  argued  that  he  was  their  choice,  and 
hoped  that  he  would  not  go  contrary  to  their 
unanimous  wish.  After  consulting  upon  the 
matter  he  accepted,  and  I  think  that  his  friends 


DR.    JOIIX    MCGREGOR.  71 

had  just  cause  to  be  proud  of  their  senator. 
He  was  appointed  as  chairman  on  some  of  the 
most  important  committees,  and  his  acts  gave 
general  satisfaction.  His  sayings  and  doings 
while  he  was  senator,  gained  him  a  reputation 
which  any  man  should  prize  very  highly.  He 
did  not  desire  to  be  in  office,  for  that  would 
place  him  out  of  his  sphere.  Surgery  was  his 
whole  aim,  and  he  could  not  be  contented 
in  doing  anything  else.  Being  so  long  in 
those  Southern  prisons  had  weakened  his  con- 
stitution and  made  terrible  inroads  upon  his 
general  health,  so  much  so  that  he  could  not 
endure  the  long  rides  over  the  hilly  country 
which  surrounds  Thompson.  Consequently, 
lie  was  obliged  to  seek  a  place  where  his 
practice  would  be  confined  to  a  smaller  sphere. 
Providence  had  just  lost  her  most  noted 
surgeon.  Dr.  Miller  had  passed  from  earth, 
and  Rhode  Island  mourned  the  loss. 

In  July,  1865,  Dr.  McGregor  moved  to 
Providence,  took  rooms  at  the  City  Hotel,  and 
opened  an  office  at  51  Dorrance  street.  He 
very  soon  commanded  a  large  practice  in  his 
profession.     His    reputation    as    surgeon    and 


72  LIFE    AX  I)    DEEDS    OF 

physician  was  already  established.  He  was 
now  44  years  old.  His  practice  was  so  exten- 
sive, and  his  success  in  his  operations  so 
great,  that  he  did  not  propose  to  lay  down  the 
knife  to  any  one  in  Rhode  Island. 

We  can  review  the  past  and  have  some 
knowledge  of  the  present,  but  we  know  not 
what  the  future  has  in  store  for  us.  When 
everything  looks  prosperous  and  bright,  when 
the  morning-  zephyr  plays  gently  with  the  tiny 
flowers,  and  even  when  the  midday  sun  shines 
in  all  its  loveliness,  we  know  not  but  a  cyclone 
is  forming  beyond  the  hills,  which,  before 
evening,  will  destroy  all  our  hopes  and  blast 
all  our  prospects.  How  many  there  are  who 
will  say  this  is  true !  rf A  calm  is  often  followed 
by  a  storm,"  is  the  saying  of  mariners.  When 
a  useful  man  in  the  meridian  of  life,  one  who 
has  always  applied  his  talents  in  the  right 
direction,  is  suddenly  cut  down,  the  whole 
country  mourns  the  loss.  The  next  scene, 
which  I  am  rapidly  approaching,  was  too 
tragical  and  heart-rending  to  admit  of  a  minute 
description  without  lacerating  the  hearts  of 
many,  therefore  I  will  give  only  some  of  the 


DR.    JOHX   MCGREGOR.  7o 

main  facts  and  pass  on  to  other  scenes. 

The  eventful  4th  of  November,  1867,  dawned 
upon  the  city  of  Providence  in  all  its  beauty. 
The  bells  chimed  in  harmony,  and  the  rever- 
berations sounded  through  the  streets.  All 
the  forenoon  the  doctor  had  been  going  from 
one  sick-room  to  another,  administering  to  his 
patients.  Xoon  came  and  he  repaired  to  the 
City  Hotel  for  dinner.  Little  did  he  think 
that  it  was  to  be  his  last  meal  on  earth.  His 
wife  had  left  the  city  a  few  days  previous  to 
visit  relatives  and  friends  at  Thompson.  After 
dinner  he  again  entered  upon  his  duties.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  visit  the  Hon.  Joseph  M. 
Blake's  daughter,  avIio  was  very  sick  at  that 
time.  On  driving  down  Dyer  street,  feeling 
perfectly  safe,  no  doubt,  the  hind  part  of  his 
chaise  was  struck  by  the  cars,  and  he  was 
thrown  underneath  and  terribly  mangled.  He 
was  immediately  taken  to  his  rooms  at  the  City 
Hotel,  and  medical  assistance  summoned.  It 
was  found,  on  examination,  that  one  of  his 
arms  was  fearfully  crushed,  and  that  amputa- 
tion would  be  necessary.  He  was  put  under 
the  influence  of  ether,  and  the  operation  com- 


74  LIFE    AXD    DEEDS    OF 

menced.  His  pulse  sank  rapidly,  and  it  was 
soon  discovered  that  he  would  not  survive  the 
operation.  When  the  last  stroke  of  the  knife 
was  finished,  and  the  arm  severed  from  his 
body,  it  was  found  that  the  immortal  part  of 
Dr.  McGregor  had  crossed  the  river  of  death. 
His  suffering's,  both  physical  and  mental,  in 
this  life  had  been  great,  but  he  had  borne  them 
with  Christian  fortitude.  Thus  ended  the  life 
of  Dr.  John  McGregor;  and  thus  he  passed 
from  earth,  leaving  a  name  and  memory  which 
will  never  die. 

When  the  news  flashed  over  the  country, 
describing  that  tragical  scene  on  Dyer  street 
and  that  terrible  scene  at  the  City  Hotel,  where 
the  operation  was  performed,  and  the  ending 
of  his  life,  there  was  a  solemn  thrill  through- 
out the  land.  The  excitement  in  Providence, 
and  especially  at  the  Hotel,  was  intense.  It 
seemed  so  strange  that  after  he  had  been 
exposed  to  the  many  dangers  of  the  battle  field, 
and  to  the  fever  and  the  famine  which  envel- 
oped those  Southern  prisons,  and  his  life  had 
been  spared,  he  should  be  sacrificed  in  a  city 
where  people  should  be  protected  against  such 


Dr.   JOHN   MCGREGOR.  75 

Calamities.  There  are  many  things  which 
happen  to  which  onr  feeble  minds  cannot  be 
reconciled;  and  that  is  one  of  the  cases  where 
some  minds  are  still  unreconciled.  We  believe 
that  he  is  now  at  rest.  We  know  that  the 
clamor  of  war  cannot  reach  his  ears,  and  we 
know  that  the  fever  and  famine  will  not  have 
to  be  endured. 

The  scene  at  the  Hotel,  when  Mrs.  McGregor 
arrived  and  found  that  her  husband  was  dead, 
I  will  not  attempt  to  describe,  for  the  English 
language  is  inadequate  to  describe  such  a 
heart-rending  scene.  For  days  the  Hotel  was 
thronged  with  sympathizing  friends,  all  more 
than  willing  to  aid  and  assist  in  any  way  which 
they  could  to  alleviate  the  sorrow  and  suffering 
of  the  widow  and  relatives,  and  to  watch  over 
and  prepare  the  dead  for  burial. 

On  the  10th,  his  remains  were  carefully 
removed  from  the  City  Hotel  to  the  Beneficent 
Congregational  Church,  where  Rev.  James  G. 
Vose  preached  the  following  discourse  occa- 
sioned bv  the  death  of  Dr.  John  McGregor. 


DISCOURSE. 


"Duty  amid  Danger," 


My  days  are  swifter  than  a  post :  they  flee  away  :  they  see  no 
good.  They  are  passed  away  as  the  swift  ships;  as  the  eagle 
that  hasteth  to  the  prey.' 

Job  ix  :  25. 

This  utterance  of  the  patriarch  has  been 
impressed  on  my  mind  from  early  childhood. 
Something  in  the  quaintness  of  phrase  attracted 
my  attention,  and  fixed  the  words  upon  my 
memory  from  the  first  hearing.  In  the  whole 
poem  there  is  a  richness  and  variety  of  meta- 
phor which  strike  the  ear  of  the  most  careless, 
and  haunt  us  like  a  strain  of  melody.  In  the 
lines  before  us,  we  have  three  figures  to  denote 
the  shortness  of  life.     The  first  is  that  of  a 


IS  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

rider,  who  bears  riding's,  and  though  the  rapid- 
ity of  our  steam  and  telegraph  lines  seems  to 
east  a  satire  upon  the  post  riding,  whatever  it 
were,  of  that  early  age;  yet  the  coming  and 
departing  of  such  a  messenger  is  an  apt  symbol 
of  the  horseman.  Death,  who  appears  across 
the  plains  as  a  dim  speck,  and  is  upon  us 
before  we  fairly  descry  his  garments.  "My 
days  are  swifter  than  a  post,  *  *  *  they 
are  passed  away  as  the  swift  ships."  Here 
also,  the  impression  made  upon  the  imagination 
is  not  so  much  of  absolute  speed,  as  of  strange 
and  unaccountable  disappearance.  The  imag-  ■ 
ination  is  not  affected  by  mere  numbers.  We 
know  how  fast  light  travels  from  the  sun  and 
from  the  fixed  stars,  but  this  does  not  impress 
us,  as  may  some  simple  every  day  fact.  He, 
who  from  some  overlooking  height,  has  gazed 
dreamily  out  on  the  ocean,  on  a  still  summer 
afternoon;  and  has  seen  a  cluster  of  white 
winged  ships,  fresh  freighted  and  trimmed  for  a 
foreign  port,  quietly  dropping  down  the  harbor, 
or  steering  their  course  out  of  the  islands 
toward  the  unsheltered  main, —  he,  who  thus 
o-azina*  has  turned  his  eve  for  a  moment  to  the 


REV.    JAMES    <;.    VOSE.  79 

heavens  or  to  the  distant  city,  or  lost  in  thought, 
has  forgotten,  for  a  time,  the  objects  before  him, 
when  he  looks  again,  is  startled  to  find  that  the 
ships  have  vanished,  or  perhaps  he  can  just 
descry  their  masts  sinking  every  moment  below 
the  horizon.  Such  an  one,  I  say,  will  compre- 
hend the  figure  of  the  sacred  poet.  fpThey  are 
passed  away  as  the  swift  ships."  It  is  not  the 
rapidity  of  their  motion,  but  the  suddenness  of 
their  disappearance  that  affects  us.  They  may 
have  seemed  to  loiter  and  almost  be  motionless, 
but  the  returning  eye  searches  for  them  in 
vain.  It  sweeps  the  horizon  o'er  and  o'er,  but 
they  are  no  more  seen.  "My  days  are  swifter 
than  a  post :  they  are  passed  away  as  the  swift 
ships;  as  the  eagle  that  hasteth  to  the  prey." 
The  keen  vision  of  the  eagle,  who  looks  with 
unblenched  gaze  at  the  sun,  and  his  swift 
(light  are  facts  well  known.  Here  too  we  see 
that  among  a  pastoral  people  the  unlooked  for 
attack  upon  their  flocks  would  be  a  fit  image 
of  all  sudden  events.  In  all  these  figures,  the 
idea  is  not  of  absolute  swiftness,  but  of  sudden 
and  unexpected  departure.  Even  so  life 
passes.     It  may  seem  to  linger,  and  often  it  is 


(SO  FtHNTSRAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

wearisome.  Job  wished  for  the  grave,  and 
longed  to  hide  himself  in  its  bosom;  but  look- 
ing at  the  past  his  days  seemed  to  have  van- 
ished unawares. 

The  uncertainty  of  life  is  impressed  upon  ns, 
with  every  advancing  month.  Strange  and 
unlooked  for  events  set  at  naught  all  our 
planning,  and  give  new  truth  to  the  Spanish 
proverb,  ff  Nothing  is  certain  but  the  unfore- 
seen." During  the  current  year,  in  a  general 
condition  of  great  health  and  quietness,  we 
have  been  called,  in  this  city,  to  witness  many 
striking  and  sad  events  that  have  revived  in 
my  thought  continually  the  sublime  imagery 
of  the  sacred  writer.  ffMy  days  are  swifter 
than  a  post,  they  are  passed  away  as  the  swift 
ships." 

I  wish  to  draw  no  lesson  of  tenor  or  dismay 
from  these  sad  events,  but  to  lead  you  rather 
to  consider  the  claims  of  the  present.  My 
theme  is  this,  that  duty  is  not  diminished  by 
uncertainty. 

I.  There  is  a  duty  to  guard  against  sick- 
ness and  accident.  I  place  duty  to  self  first, 
because  it  is  God's  claim.     We  may  fulfil  dutv 


REV.    JAMES    a.    VOSE.  81 

to  self  without  being  selfish.  We  should  love 
ourselves,  because  God  loves  us.  Many  men 
are  deficient  in  self  love.  All  the  herd  of 
gluttons,  drunkards,  abusers  of  the  body  by 
excess,  are  destitute  of  a  right  love  of  self. 
They  have  no  self-respect,  no  faith  in  their 
high  endowments  or  capacities,  no  sense  of  the 
honor  God  has  put  on  them,  nor  of  the  sacri- 
fice Christ  has  made  that  they  might  be  saved. 
But  others  love  themselves  too  little,  who  are 
not  contained  in  any  such  class  as  these.  Men 
and  women  there  are,  who  throw  away  life  for 
money  or  for  fashion,  or  for  false  appearances. 
There  are  multitudes  Avhose  habits  of  life,  of 
dress,  of  daily  employment  are  injurious  to 
health  and  fatal  to  long  life.  Many  expose 
themselves  for  amusement's  sake,  as  others 
with  ecpial  or  even  greater  folly  do  it  for  gain. 
Xow  it  is  no  answer  to  all  this  to  say,  that  Ave 
cannot  tell  what  will  harm,  or  what  will  benefit 
us,  that  Ave  are  liable  to  so  many  diseases  and 
troubles  that  Ave  may  as  well  disregard  them 
all.  We  knoAv  that  there  are  certain  laAvs  of 
temperance  and  regularity  AArhich  cannot  be 
disregarded  with  impunity.     We  shall  suffer 


82  PUBERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

for  their  negrlect.  At  all  events  we  shall  fall 
under  the  displeasure  of  God.  If  we  had 
received  from  a  friend  a  musical  instrument  of 
rare  beauty  and  workmanship,  and  were  told 
that  it  needed  eareful  handling,  that  its  strings' 
would  suffer  from  moisture  and  from  sudden 
eold  or  heat,  that  it  must  not  he  shaken  or 
jarred,  or  its  notes  struck  violently  or  by  an 
unskilled  hand,  we  should  certainly  be  very 
ungrateful  and  foolish  to  disregard  these 
warnings.  To  be  sure  the  fire  may  burn 
it,  or  some  malicious  or  careless  hand  may 
destroy  it,  in  spite  of  all  our  precautions,  but 
shall  we  therefore  neglect  it  altogether?  We 
/tare  received  from  God  an  instrument  ofmorc 
curious  mechanism,  than  man  can  devise,  and 
with  good  handling  it  may  outlast  most  of  the 
ordinary  inventions  of  man.  It  may  be  con- 
tinued to  us  seventy  or  eighty  years.  Because 
life  is  uncertain,  because  a  thousand  accidents 
and  diseases  surround  us  at  all  ages,  shall  we 
therefore  neglect  all  bodily  care  and  fore- 
thought? 

You  think  perhaps  this  advice  is  needless. 
Men  do  take  thought  for  their  bodies.     Many 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  83 

of  you  are  anxious  and  troubled  on  account  of 
some  little  ailment.  You  lie  awake  and  are 
restless  with  apprehension,  because  of  some 
slight  pain,  or  some  anticipated  evil.  You 
hear  of  some  disease  that  has  affected  a  neigh- 
bor or  caused  his  death,  and  you  imagine  it 
may  be  that  you  have  symptoms  of  the  same, 
and  yet  you  yourself  have  been  and  are,  per- 
haps, neglectful  of  the  commonest  rules  of 
bodily  health.  Neither  your  food,  your  sleep, 
nor  your  exercise  are  guided  by  a  sense  of 
duty  to  God.  You  forget  that  God  will  call 
you  to  account  for  your  body  as  well  as  for 
your  soul.  You  forget  that  in  addition  to  the 
pains  and  sickness  brought  on  by  wrong- 
doing, men  will  also  have  to  answer  for  the 
sin  of  abusing  God's  handiwork.  Admit  that 
with  our  best  precautions  we  cannot  escape 
suffering  and  danger,  should  we  not  the  more 
earnestly  seek  in  all  right  ways  to  avoid  all 
needless  harm  and  loss? 

The  same  thing  is  true  in  reference  to  acci- 
dent by  the  elements  or  the  works  of  man.  T\  c 
cannot  stay  the  thunderbolt  nor  the  earth- 
quake, but  we  can  avert  the  lightning    from 


84  PUTSTERAL    DISCOURSE    P»V 

our  dwellings  by  the  simple  contrivance  of 
Franklin.  We  can  avoid  needless  danger. 
We  can  avoid  reckless  exposure.  Yet  how 
often  is  this  duty  forgotten!  Men  build  rail- 
roads and  run  them  without  regard  for  human 
life.  Through  the  streets  of  a  populous  city, 
or  on  even  grade,  across  a  travelled  road,  it 
makes  little  difference  where,  if  there  is  money 
to  be  made.  Traffic  takes  little  note  of  life  or 
limb.  And  there  is  too  much  indifference  to 
the  fearful  anguish  that  may  result  from  some 
false  or  unexpected  movement.  The  iron 
wheels  that  bear  such  prodigious  weight, -may 
now  and  then  go  over  a  human  heart,  and 
crush  the  life  out  from  other  kindred  hearts; 
and  what  amount  of  money,  or  business 
accommodation  put  into  the  opposite  scale 
will  balance  that  loss  and  anguish?  The 
uncertainties  of  life  relieve  us  from  no  caution 
public  or  private  —  they  rather  increase  and 
force  upon  us  the  duty,  both  for  ourselves  and 
others,  of  obeying  the  rules  of  prudence,  of 
temperance,  of  care,  and  circumspection,  that 
we  may  not  throw  away  the  life  which  God 
has  bestowed.     Is  it  not  a  plain  duty  of  all 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  85 

good  governments  and  good  citizens  to  see  to 
it,  that  the  lives  of  our  fellowmen  are  not 
endangered  by  steam  engines,  and  factories 
erected  in  dangerous  places,  by  explosions  in 
crowded  streets, —  by  yielding  to  traffic  and 
convenience  all  the  claims  that  belong  to  the 
sacredness  of  life?  Rhode  Island  has  abol- 
ished capital  punishment.  She  is  too  tender 
hearted  to  put  to  death  even  the  worst  of 
criminals.  Shall  we  not  make  better  laws  for 
the  safety  of  our  citizens,  as  they  walk  or  ride 
along  bur  streets  at  midday?  Is  it  not  a 
solemn  duty  to  secure  our  friends  and  our 
children,  by  all  possible  means,  from  such  sad 
catastrophies?  Of  the  numerous  inventions 
of  the  present  day  to  facilitate  trade,  or  to 
improve  the  style  and  comfort  of  living, 
almost  every  one  tends  also  to  endanger  or  to 
shorten  life ;  and  we  need  the  greatest  care,  by 
public  laws,  and  by  private  efforts  to  defend 
ourselves  and  others  from  harm.  It  is  the 
boast  of  owv  age,  that  human  life  is  regarded 
as  more  sacred  than  it  ever  was  before.  And 
yet  the  most  inhuman  butcheries  occur  on 
railroads  and  steamboats,  and  within  our  cities 


86  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

almost  every  week,  and  are  passed  over  as 
blameless  accidents.  God  will  call  us  to 
account,  as  men  and  citizens,  for  the  reckless- 
ness and  indifference  that  suffer  so  many  pre- 
cious lives  to  be  destroyed. 

II.  And  now  I  come,  secondly,  to  a  very 
different  point  presented  by  this  theme,  viz: 
That  it  is  our  duty  to  encounter  dangers  joy- 
fully, when  a  real  good  is  to  be  gained.  Duty 
remains  amid  uncertainty.  And  when  there 
is  a  substantial  good  to  be  gained,  or  when 
there  is  a  fair  hope  of  attaining  it,  we  may 
rightly  encounter  danger.  Men  must  encoun- 
ter danger  in  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  business. 
They  must  travel  over  land  and  sea.  They 
must  run  the  risks  of  fire,  of  machinery,  of  the 
various  tools  and  implements  which  they  have 
in  use.  While  these  risks  ought  to  be  under 
far  more  strict  regulation,  they  still  must  be 
bravely  met.  If  men  accept  the  industries 
which  God  sets  before  them,  in  a  God-fearing 
manner,  they  have  a  right  to  trust  his  protec- 
tion. If  they  are  not  carried  away  by  love  of 
gold,  or  fool-hardiness,  then  they  may  regard 
danger  as  encountered  in  obedience  to  Him. 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  87 

And  in  many  eases  in  life,  God  does  plainly 
command  us  to  advance  in  the  very  face  of 
danger.  We  are  called  to  expose  ourselves 
for  the  sake  of  our  friends  and  children.  To 
save  their  lives  we  must  willingly  risk  our 
own.  Nay,  sometimes  for . strangers  or  ene- 
mies, even,  we  ought  to  encounter  peril  to 
relieve  them,  ^so  true  hearted  man  will  see 
the  sick  or  wounded  suffer  and  die,  when  he 
can  afford  them  help,  although  the  furnishing 
of  that  help  may  incur  the  danger  of  disease 
to  himself.  When  a  contagious  disease  breaks 
out  in  city  or  country,  some  friend  must  min- 
ister to  the  sufferer.  There  is  responsibility 
somewhere  to  furnish  aid  and  nursing  and 
medical  skill.  There  is  a  duty  higher  than 
that  of  self-preservation.  And  this  is  recog- 
nized, thank  God!  Human  nature,  corrupt 
and  imperfect  as  it  is,  still  recognizes  the  duty 
of  mutual  help.  And  many  a  timid  woman, 
and  many  a  generous  boy,  and  many  a  poor 
sailor,  even,  will  forget  all  thought  of  self,  and 
spring  to  the  side  of  the  suffering,  when  there 
is  the  least  hope  of  rescuing  or  comforting 
them  in  their  distress. 


88  FTXNTERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

At  times,  it  is  the  highest  duty  to  forget  all 
fear.  Xay,  at  times  it  is  the  highest  safety, 
also.  For,  in  eities,  where  the  pestilence  has 
raged,  or  where  the  yellow  fever  lias  swept  off 
thousands,  it  is  found  that  those  who  have  been 
most  generous  and  sympathizing, —  the  faithful 
physician,  the  attentive  nurse,  the  sister  of 
mercy, —  have  been  protected  of  God  through 
all  dangers,  while  the  eowering  fugitive,  01*  the 
selfish  negleeter  of  the  suffering,  has  fallen  a 
victim.  It  is  God's  command  that  we  live  in 
this  world  for  high  objects,  and  that  these 
should  always  rise  above  mere  personal  safety 
or  comfort.  This  does  not  conflict  with  the 
claims  of  our  own  body  and  soul,  for  the  chief 
motive  why  these  should  be  supported,  is  that 
they  may  be  useful  in  God's  sight.  It  is  not 
easy  to  draw  any  distinct  line  for  all  cases,  but 
he  who  studies  the  character  of  Christ  and  the 
example  of  all  noble,  useful  men  in  the  world, 
will  learn  how  to  fulfill  duty  to  self  and  duty 
to  others,  at  the  same  time. 

In  the  breaking  out  of  our  war,  our  young 
men  learned  this  lesson  —  I  think  I  may  say 
all  classes  of   society    learned    it.     Men    and 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  89 

women,  young  and  old ;  all  professions  and  all 
ages,  learned  it.  ^N"one  more  certainly  than 
our  physicians,  who  offered  themselves  read- 
ily to  care  for  the  sick  and  wounded,  and  to 
go  with  them  to  prison  or  to  death.  And  thus 
it  is  sometimes,  in  life, —  the  greater  the  dan- 
ger, the  greater  the  duty.  If  it  be  a  plain 
duty,  if  God  commands,  and  love  and  honor 
light  the  way,  then  danger  and  peril  only 
increase  the  obligation,  as  they  increase  the 
honor. 

III.  I  come,  therefore,  thirdly,  to  remark 
that  amid  all  the  uncertainties  of  this  life,  it  is 
still  our  duty  to  remember  the  obligations  due 
to  the  present.  We  possess  only  the  present. 
Our  sphere  of  action,  our  power  of  control 
upon  ourselves  and  others  is  limited.  The 
good  act  will,  indeed  sweep  onward  in  waves  of 
influence,  but  the  pebble  we  cast  must  be  cast 
into  the  present,  if  at  all.  The  question  for  us 
is  not  what  shall  be  on  the  morrow,  not  where 
we  shall  be,  nor  where  shall  be  our  neighbor  or 
child,  but  what  we  may  do  to-day,  to  comfort 
and  bless  them.  We  need  a  more  child-like 
spirit,  that  we  may  thank  God  for  the  gifts  of 


90  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

the  present,  that  Ave  may  enjoy  them  tranquilly, 
and  impart  them  with  a  child's  sweetness  to 
others.  The  present  comfo;  t  and  health  of  our 
household  and  those  committed  to  our  care, 
involve  ample  duties,  which  must  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  engross  us.  It  is  of 
vast  importance  that  we  live  lives  of  kindness, 
of  tenderness  and  self-denial,  that  wre  make 
home  happy  by  the  radiance  of  a  cheerful  and 
eontented  spirit.  Grief  and  trouble  will  come 
soon  enough.  Let  us  not  cloud  the  present 
sunshine,  let  us  not  fret  and  repine  because  of 
coming  ill.  Terrible  events  are  about  us;  let 
us  yield  them  the  tear  of  sympathy,  but  let  us 
not  be  too  much  cast  down.  For  God  calls  us 
to  make  others  happy  and  to  point  their  eyes 
to  the  spot  of  sunshine  on  the  distant  hills. 
A  life  of  gentle  faith,  of  silent  endurance,  is 
pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God.  What  though 
the  darkness  lowers,  the  gracious  God  is 
behind  it.  I  have  heard  aged  people  describe 
the  dark  day,  which  occurred  in  1780.  The 
darkness  was  so  great,  that  all  ordinary 
business  was  suspended.  The  cattle  came 
home  from  the  pasture ;  the  fowls  sought  their 


REV.    JAMES    a.    VOSE.  91 

nightly  perch;  lamps  were  lighted  at  midday, 
and  men's  faces  wore  the  look  of  terror  and 
dismay.  At  that  time  the  Connecticut  Assem- 
bly was  sitting,  and  some  proposed  that  they 
should  adjourn,  for  the  day  of  judgment  was 
coming;  but  one  of  the  members,  stern  old 
Abraham  Davenport,  declared  that,  if  the  end 
of  the  world  were  come,  they  could  be  found 
in  no  better  place  than  at  their  post  of  duty. 
And  Whittier  describes  him  in  his  fine  lines, 
as  saying  — 

This  well  may  be  the  day  of  judgment  which  the  world  awaits. 

But  be  it  so  or  not,  I  only  know 

My  present  duty,  and  my  Lord's  command 

To  occupy  till  he  come. 
And  therefore  with  all  reverence  will  I  say. 
Let  God  do  His  work,  we  will  see  to  ours. 

Thus  should  we  remember,  friends,  our  obli- 
gations to  the  present.  God  has  set  us  in  our 
post  of  duty  to  live  humbly,  patiently  and  lov- 
ingly, remembering  the  happiness  of  all  who 
are  about  us.  There  has  always  been,  to  my 
mind,  a  strong  a  priori  argument  against  those 
who  attempt  to  show  from  prophecy  when  the 
end  of  the  world  will  be,  that  the  whole  spirit 


92  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

of  the  Bible  commands    us  to  fulfill  present 

duty.  And  it  would  be  contrary  to  the  whole 
spirit  of  faith  and  duty,  that  God  should  reveal 
the  future.  "Secret  things  belong  unto  the 
Lord  our  God,  but  those  which  are  revealed 
belong  unto  us  and  to  our  children,  that  we 
may  do  the  works  of  this  law."  We  must 
remember,  then,  our  obligations  to  the  present. 
It  is  well  to  live  by  the  day,  not  laying  too 
many  plans  for  this  life,  not  over  confident  of 
anything  concerning  it,  but  anxious  that  the 
present  time  be  well  and  wisely  employed. 

Men  sometimes  say,  in  hollow  phrase,  that 
we  ought  to  live  each  day  as  if  it  were  the  last. 
Such  a  life  would  be  miserable  and  useless.  If 
you  knew  this  to  be  your  last  day,  you  would 
spend  it  in  farewells  to  your  friends,  and  in 
closing  up  the  business  of  life.  But  you  do 
not  know  it  to  be  your  last  day.  What  then? 
Let  us  use  it  wisely.  Be  sure  it  will  be  the 
last  day  to  some.  In  this  city  one  thousand 
persons  die  a  year,  an  average  of  three  a  day. 
Very  rarely  does  a  day  pass  but  it  is  the  last 
for  some  one,  who  had  found  a  home  here, 
They    die    by  accident    or    disease,  by    many 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  93 

dreaded  or  imdreaded  ways.  It  will  do  us  no 
harm  to  think  of  it  sometimes, —  ?fTo  smell  to 
a  fresh  turf,"  says  Thomas  Fuller,  "is  whole- 
some to  the  body, —  even  so  the  thoughts  of 
mortality  are  healthful  to  the  soul."  How, 
then,  shall  I  use  this  thought?  I  will  be 
kindly,  humble,  true  to  every  man  I  meet  in 
business  or  social  life.  I  will  be  gentle  and 
patient  in  the  house  and  in  the  shop.  I  will 
make  life  easier  and  better  for  friends  and 
children.  '  Above  all,  I  will  be  true  to  the 
soul's  need,  and  remember  that  to-day  is  all 
we  are  sure  of  to  prepare  for  heaven.  I  will, 
therefore,  take  all  fitting  times  to  impress 
religious  truth  upon  the  souls  of  men,  that,  if 
that  strange  lot  which  is  cast  every  day  for 
one  or  more  of  the  dwellers  of  this  city, 
should  fall  among  my  family,  or  within  my 
circle  of  influence,  I  may  rejoice  that  the  duty 
of  the  day  has  been  well  done.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  forebode  disaster  or  trouble,  but  to 
leave  all  in  the  hands  of  God,  who  will  cause 
all  things  to  work  together  for  good  to  those 
that  love  Him.  The  simplicity  of  such  a  life 
is  well  expressed  in  a  German  hymn,  which  I 


<)4  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

love  to  remember: 

My  God,  I  know  not  when  I  die, 
What  is  the  moment,  or  the  hour, 
How  soon  the  clay  may  broken  lie, 
How  quickly  pass  away  the  flower : 
Then  may  thy  child  prepared  be 
Thro'  time  to  meet  eternity. 

My  God,  I  know  not  how  I  die, 
For  death  has  many  ways  to  come. 
In  dark,  mysterious  agony, 
Or  gently  as  a  sleep,  to  some. 
Just  as  thon  wilt,  if  but  I  be 
Forever  blessed,  Lord,  with  Thee. 

My  God,  I  know  not  where  I  die, 

Where  is  my  grave,  beneath  what  strand. 

Yet,  from  its  gloom,  I  do  rely 

To  be  delivered  by  thy  hand. 

Content  I  take  what  spot  is  mine, 

Since  all  the  earth,  my  Lord,  is  Thine. 

My  gracious  God,  when  I  must  die, 
Oh  !  bear  my  happy  sonl  above, 
Witli  Christ,  my  Lord,  eternally 
To  share  thy  glory  and  thy  love  ! 
Then  comes  it  right  and  well  to  me, 
When,  where  and  how  my  death  shall  be. 

Sudden  deaths,  dear  friends,  have  multiplied 
among  ns  of  late.     Among  public  and  private 


REV.    JAMES    a.    VOSE.  95 

men,  these  strange  and  shocking  events  have 
been  of  frequent  occurrence.  Such  events 
sound  strangely  amid  the  excitements  and 
business  of  this  present  life.  In  the  strife  of 
elections,  in  the  whirl  of  traffic  and  of  pleasure, 
the  coming  of  death  terrifies  us,  like  a  peal  of 
thunder.  God  doubtless  sends  these  shocks 
to  startle  men  in  their  selfishness,  and  to  teach 
them  the  vanity  of  earthly  things.  But  this  is 
but  part  of  the  lesson.  It  is  not  to  hinder 
the  proper  pursuits  of  life,  it  is  not  to  paralyze 
the  arm  that  is  uplifted  in  manly  struggle.  It 
is  rather  to  urge  men  to  fulfill  every  duty  as  in 
the  sight  of  God.  It  is  to  press  upon  them  the 
sacredness  of  life,  and  the  worth  of  every 
moment.  Great  duties  and  small  must  be 
attended  to  now,  or  else  forever  abandoned. 
r Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it 
with  thy  might,  for  there  is  no  work,  nor 
device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the 
grave  whither  thou  goest."  Too  late,  then,  to 
seek  the  forgiveness  of  God,  too  late  to  seek 
the  forgiveness  of  man,  too  late,  also,  to  for- 
give, if  we  have  cherished  animosities,  or  to 
speak  the  word  of  tenderness  and  love,  where 


96  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

we  have  offended.  Too  late  to  recall  the  harsh 
and  bitter  speech,  too  late  to  do  the  aet  of  self- 
denial  for  friends  or  children,  or  to  bestow  the 
gifts  of  charity  on  the  starving  or  distressed. 
prHe  that  is  faithful,  in  that  which  is  least,  is 
faithful  also  in  much."  There  is  a  prayer  in 
the  liturgy  to  be  delivered  from  sudden  death. 
I  am  told  that  in  Newman  Hall's  chapel  in 
London,  where  the  liturgy  is  used  in  modified 
form,  that  prayer  is  rendered,  "From  sudden 
and  unprepared  death,  Good  Lord,  deliver 
us."  I  take  it  this  is  the  meaning  of  the 
prayer,  and  well  for  us,  however  and  when- 
ever death  comes,  if  only  we  be  found  ready. 

And  now  I  will  say  a  word  in  respect  to  the 
sad  death  of  one  of  our  own  congregation, 
which  has  deeply  affected  this  community. 
He  has  disappeared  from  our  sight  as  in  a 
moment.  As  a  plummet  sinks  in  the  mighty 
waters,  so  has  he  vanished  from  our  view  in 
the  ocean  of  eternity.  Last  Sabbath,  in  all  the 
vigor  of  manly  strength,  with  the  hope  of  years 
of  active  labor  and  usefulness  before  him; — 
to-day,  sleeping  in  his  narrow  bed.     Dr.  John 


REV.    JAMES    a.    VOSE.  97 

McGregor  was  born  in  Coventry,  R.  I.  After 
his  early  education,  he  engaged  in  teaching 
school  for  a  time,  before  entering  upon  his 
professional  career.  It  was  here,  while  just 
deciding  upon  the  course  of  his  future  life, 
that  his  religious  impressions  became  fixed 
and  positive.  Thoughtfully  and  with  full 
purpose  of  heart,  he  gave  himself  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  We  have  delightful  evidence 
of  the  power  of  this  change  in  the  testimony 
of  our  own  Sabbath  School  Superintendent, 
who  was  at  that  time  his  pupil.  When  the 
youthful  teacher  became  a  Christian,  he  deemed 
it  his  plain  duty  to  inform  his  scholars  of  his 
new  found  faith,  and  not  quailing  before  a  trial 
which  has  often  been'  found  harder  than  to 
face  the  perils  of  battle,  he  summoned  them 
around  him,  to  begin  their  daily  studies  with 
prayer  to  God.  His  Christian  character, 
borne  witness  to  by  those  who  have  known 
him  through  a  long  life,  was  ever  of  this  faith- 
ful type.  He  was  a  man  of  simple  integrity,  a 
man  who  never  thought  of  turning  aside  from 
duty,  however  difficult. 

As    a  professional  man,  there  is    abundant 


98  FUNERAL   DISCOURSE    BY 

and  distinct  evidence  of  his  high  attainments 
and  success.  In  the  State  of  Connecticut  and 
in  the  comity  of  Windham,  where  he  resided 
he  became  well  and  favorably  known,  at  a  very 
early  period  in  his  practice.  He  was  specially 
distinguished  as  a  surgeon,  and  some  remark- 
able cases,  in  which  he  was  called,  bear  witness 
alike  to  his  skill  and  his  fidelity.  Some  of 
these  have  record  in  the  scientific  journals, 
and  others  are  fondly  cherished  in  the  memory 
of  grateful  and  admiring  friends.  A  long 
account  was  given  me  last  winter  by  a  friend, 
of  an  extraordinary  case  of  surgery  performed 
by  him,  not  only  with  marvelous  skill  and  suc- 
cess, but  with  a  fidelity  and  tenderness,  wholly 
untainted  by  hope  of  reward. 

And  here  let  me  bear  witness,  in  honor  of 
a  profession  for  which  I  have  the  profonndest 
respect,  that  it  does  include,  and  has  ever 
included,  some  of  the  most  self-denying,  most 
honorable  and  high  minded  men,  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  Among  its  ranks,  there  is  less 
of  sordidness,  and  far  more  of  kindly,  generous 
feeling,  than  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life.  Of 
course    there    are  painful   exceptions.     But  I 


REV.    JAMES    a.    VOSE.  99 

speak  now  of  what  seems  to  be  the  tendency 
and  influence  of  this  ennobling  profession. 
ff  Able,  cautions  and  experienced  physicians," 
says  Martin  Luther,  ffare  the  gifts  of  God. 
They  are  the  ministers  of  nature,  to  whom 
human  life  is  confided.  No  physician  should 
take  a  single  step,  but  in  humility  and  the  fear 
of  God;  they  who  are  without  the  fear  of  God, 
are  mere  homicides." 

Dr.  McGregor  was  an  example,  worthy  of 
his  class.  He  never  refused  the  cry  of  pov- 
erty, nor  ministered  with  any  the  less  care  or 
assiduity  in  the  homes  of  the  poor  and  friend- 
less. Blessed  with  a  strong  body  and  a  tran- 
quil mind,  he  was  well  endowed  by  nature  for 
his  arduous  task,  and  in  the  early  part  of  his 
life,  when  in  full  health,  he  traveled  far  and 
near,  in  his  country  district,  to  attend  upon 
the  suffering.  There  are  many  living  to-day 
who  remember  with  gratitude  his  faithful 
attentions.  Some  whose  lives  were  saved,  and 
others  whose  troubles  were  cured  or  assuaged, 
will  learn  with  sincere  sorrow  of  his  painfull 
death. 

Truly  are  fulfilled  in  him  the  sweet  words  of 


100  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE   BY 

the  poet. 

"  How  many  a  poor  man's  blessing  wont 
With  him  beneath  the  low  green  tent, 

Whose  curtain  never  outward  swings  '■" 

Of  his  military  career,  I  cannot  speak  at 
great  length,  nor  is  there  any  need.  The  main 
facts  are  too  impressive  to  demand  the  addition 
of  details.  With  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebel- 
lion, he  deemed  it  his  duty  to  offer  his  services 
to  the  government.  He  regarded  his  skill  and 
experience  as  justly  claimed  by  his  country- 
men, and  he  went  out  in  one  of  the  earliest 
regiments,  which  went  forward  to  the  conflict. 
It  was  the  third  Conn.  Vol.,  a  three  months 
regiment,  but  not  for  him  a  three  months  cam- 
paign.  In  the  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run, 
which  fell  like  a  crushing  weight  on  every  true 
freeman's  heart,  our  friend  was  taken  prisoner. 
It  is  distinctly  testified,  that  this  was  owing  to 
his  firm  determination  not  to  forsake  his  men. 
He  knew  that  none  would  care  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  as  he  could  do  it,  and  he  would  not 
leave  them,  and  therefore  he  went  voluntarily 
to  an  imprisonment,  which    was    worse    than 


REV.    JAMES    G.    VOSE.  101 

death.  From  prison  to  prison  he  followed  his 
Buffering  comrades,  until  so  emaciated  that  his 
manly  frame  was  reduced  to  half  its  nsnal 
weight.  Dear  friends,  these  scenes  must  not 
be  dwelt  on.  They  are  too  bitter  and  too 
painful. 

After  remaining  on  the  battle  field  seven- 
teen days;  on  any  one  of  which  he  might  have 
escaped,  had  he  been  willing  to  desert  his  sick 
and  dying  comrades;  he  was  taken  to  Rich- 
mond,  and  thence  after  a  short  time  removed 
to  Castle  Pinckne}7.  Afterwards  he  was 
removed  to  Charleston  Jail,  where  he  suffered 
incredible  anguish  from  sickness  and  privation. 
During  this  time  a  great  fire  occurred,  and  the 
walls  of  the  prison  were  heated  through  and 
its  dark  cells  lighted  up  by  the  flame.  The 
poor  prisoners  locked  in  and  guarded  as  they 
were,  viewed  death  inevitable.  But  the  confla- 
gration was  stayed,  and  our  friend  who  had 
endured  such  tortures  of  mind  and  body,  was 
carried  to  Columbia,  to  Salisbury,  and  again 
to  Richmond,  from  whence  he  was  at  length 
released.  In  these  thirteen  months  of  his 
captivity,  he    saw   and    felt    as   much    of  the 


102  FUXKHAL    DISCOURSE    BY 

agony  and  cruelty  of  our  civil  war,  as  any  man 
perhaps  could  be  able  to  see  and  live. 

But  it  is  sweet  to  think,  that  this  faithful 
surgeon  comforted  so  many  of  the  suffering, 
saved  the  lives  and  relieved  the  distresses  of 
so  many. 

This  was  his  reward,  this  the  joy  and  solace 
of  his  personal  sacrifices.  In  looking  back 
upon  these  anguished  days,  he  never  regretted 
the  course  he  had  taken,  nor  esteemed  it  other 
than  an  honor  and  a  privilege,  that  he  was 
counted  worthy  to  suffer  in  so  great  a  cause. 
No  man  ever  heard  a  boastful  narrative  from 
him  of  these  troubled  days,  nor  would  his  nat- 
ural modesty  suifer  any  but  a  little  circle  of 
familiar  friends  to  draw  from  him  the  history 
of  his  army  life.  Many  who  met  him  on  our 
streets  or  received  him  into  their  houses,  had 
little  thought  that  he  deserved  a  place  high  on 
the  roll  of  those  who  were  ready  to  give  life, 
and  more  than  life  for  the  salvation  of  their 
country. 

We  claim  him  to-day  as  our  brother  in  this 
church,  for  although  his  name  is  not  on  our 
list,  yet  he  had  expressed  his  intention  of  uni- 


REV.    JAMES    G.    YOSE.  103 

ting  with  us,  and  I  hold  in  my  possesion  the 
letter  which  he  brought  from  the  church,  in 
his  former  home,  cordially  commending  him, 
to  us,  as  a  brother  faithful  and  beloved. 

As  it  was  beautifully  said,  at  our  prayer 
meeting  last  Tuesday  evening,  the  hands  of 
this  church  fellowship  were  soon  to  have  been 
raised  in  welcome  to  this  newly  admitted  mem- 
ber. But  already  the  hands  of  angels  and  the 
spirits  of  the  just  have  wafted  him  a  sweeter 
and  a  purer  welcome,  to  the  church  of  the  first 
born,  whose  names  are  written  in  heaven. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  most  sad  and  melancholy 
catastrophe,  by  which  he  was  snatched  away 
from  earth.  I  wish  not  at  this  time,  to  make 
any  harsh  or  criminating  charges  against  indi- 
viduals, but  certainly  there  is  blame  somewhere. 
The  life  that  God  had  spared  through  such 
terrible  cruelties,  and  amid  all  the  perils  of 
war, —  ought  not  to  have  been  poured  out  on 
the  altar  of  traffic,  ought  not  to  have  been 
destroyed  by  a  miserable  system  of  railroad 
management.  May  it  be  a  warning  that  may 
lead  to  better  and  safer  ways  of  answering  the 
claims  of  business,  and  providing  for  the  trans- 


104  FUNERAL    DISCOURSE   BY 

portation  of  goods.  rI  can  create  a  thousand 
noblemen,  in  a  day,"  said  the  king*  of  France, 
"but  I  cannot  make  one  philosopher."  So  may 
we  say  in  our  age, —  we  can  make  and  trans- 
port innumerable  bales  of  merchandise,  but  we 
cannot  restore  the  life  of  a  noble  citizen,  which 
is  worth  them  all.  No  wonder  that  the  deso- 
late and  bereaved  heart  cannot  look,  save  with 
uncontrolled  anguish,  upon  so  dreadful  an 
event.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  regard  it 
calmly.  And  if  the  spirit  rises  against  the 
thought,  as  if  unwilling  to  admit  it,  I  know 
there  is  love  and  patience  in  the  heart  of  Grod. 
I  remember  that  when  our  Divine  Master 
met  the  weeping  Mary  at  Bethany,  and  she 
reproached  him,  saying — "Lord,  if  thou  had st 
been  here,  my  brother  had  not  died," — he 
made  no  answer,  but  only  groaned  in  spirit. 
Such  is  the  sympathy,  even  now,  which  Jesus 
has  for  every  suffering  soul. 

But  let  us  turn  our  eyes  to  the  glorious 
record  of  the  faithful.  Let  us  behold  this 
noble  martyr  crowned  among  those  who  have 
served  God  faithfully  to  the  end.  It  was  not 
ordered  of  a  wise  Providence  that  he  should 


REV.    JAMBS    a.    VOSE.  105 

die  amid  the  many  perils  of  the  war.  He 
escaped  them  almost  as  by  a  miracle.  The 
shield  of  the  Almighty  was  over  him,  in  the 
day  of  conflict.  His  spirit  went  not  up  in  the 
shout  and  smoke  of  battle.  Xor  did  he  die 
with  those  who  sank  away  in  the  hospital  or 
in  the  stockade.  What  a  mockery  upon 
human  foresight,  do  the  circumstances  of  his 
death  afford  us!  Here,  in  our  peaceful  city, 
pursuing  the  rounds  of  his  benign  art,  he 
meets  the  death,  which  seemed  unable  to  find 
him  when  clothed  with  all  the  panoply  of  war. 
He  was  separated  for  a  little  time  from  those 
brave  heroes,  whom  he  nursed  and  comforted 
in  their  dying  hours.  But  he  is  none  the  less 
a  martyr  in  the  cause  of  humanity.  And  in 
the  records  of  heaven,  his  name  will  be  treas- 
ured among  those  who  have  sacrificed  their  all 
for  their  nation  and  for  God. 


SERVICES  AT  PHENIX. 


After  the  services  at  the  church  were  over, 
the  funeral  train  left  Providence  for  Phenix. 
At  Phenix,  the  people  received  his  remains  as 
their  own.  They  said,  "  He  comes  back  to  us, 
his  work  finished."  It  was  the  desire  of  Mr. 
William  C.  Ames  and  family  that  the  remains 
of  Dr.  McGregor  should  be  taken  to  his  house, 
and  there  rest  until  the  next  day,  when  there 
would  be  services  at  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  previous  to  burial. 

On  November  11th,  Rev.  Mr.  Westgate, 
assisted  by  Rev.  Mr.  Tallman  of  Thompson 
and  Rev.  Mr.  Shepard,  preached  a  very  instruct- 
ive discourse.     After  the  services,  his  remains 


108  THE    DOCTOR'S 

were  removed  to  the  tomb  at  Greenwood  Cem- 
etery. At  last,  the  earthly  journey  was  over. 
There,  surrounded    by  his  weeping    relatives 

and  friends,  lie  was  carefully  laid  away  to  sleep, 
after  his  work  was  done.  And  the  widow  fol- 
lowed her  fond  husband  to  his  last  earthly 
resting  place,  and,  in  his  grave,  buried  her 
hopes  of  happiness  here,  and  returned  comfort- 
less to  her  desolate  home. 

On  a  lofty  eminence  overlooking'  Phenix, 
and  many  other  villages  for  miles  around, 
stands  a  massive  monument  denoting  the 
burial  place  of  Dr.  John  McGregor.  This 
monument  will  stand  as  long  as  the  stars,  like 
angels'  eyes,  through  the  clear  sky  so  beauti- 
fully bright,  look  down  upon  this  city  of  the 
dead;  or  the  crescent  moon  sheds  its  pale  light 
o'er  these  graves,  as  it  sinks  behind  the  western 
hills;  or  the  first  rays  of  the  morning -sun  form 
the  dew  drops  upon  this  monument  into  tears, 
and  scatter  them  upon  the  grave  beneath.  Tt 
will  stand  until  all  the  graves  on  the  land,  the 
catacombs  of  the  east,  and  all  the  seas,  are 
called  upon  to  give  np  the  dead.  Then,  and 
not  until  then,  will  the  monuments  of  genius 


MOXIMEXT.  109 

and  the  arts  fall  alike,  and  mingle    with  the 
fragments  of  fallen  grandeur. 

The  knowledge  of  events,  and  the  state  of 
things  in  times  past,  have  been  communicated 
to  ns  by  inscriptions  found  upon  visible  monu- 
ments. Thus  we  find  that  when  the  Hebrews 
crossed  the  Jordan  to  invade  the  land  of 
Canaan,  they  set  up  a  heap  of  twelve  stones 
to  commemorate  the  event.  A  vast  number 
of  inscriptions  have  been  gathered  from  the 
mass  of  ancient  ruins.  Of  these,  the  following 
are  among  the  most  interesting:  the  inscription 
upon  the  pedestal  of  the  Rostral  Column  of 
Rome:  the  inscription  on  the  tombstone  of  the 
Scipios;  the  inscription  of  Zeus:  the  inscrip- 
tion termed  "The  Decree."  This  decree  was 
engraved  in  three  different  characters.  A 
history  lost  to  the  world  lias  been  recovered 
by  this  means.  Thus  you  see  the  importance 
of  leaving  pur  history  upon  granite  or  marble. 
It  will  aid  those  in  the  future,  in  making  up 
the  history  of  the  present. 

That  voice  to  which  we -have  so  often  lis- 
tened with  earnest  attention,  is  hushed  forever. 
The  country  is  not  unmindful  of  his  renown,  or 


110 

ungrateful  for  his  services.  We  pause  to  weep 
at  his  tomb.  Men  die,  but  their  words  are  left 
on  record;  their  works  remain;  their  example 
survives.  He  who  makes  a  record  like  the 
one  I  am  reviewing,  he  who  has  achieved  a 
character  like  that  which  I  now  hold  up  to  the 
youths  of  our  country,  may  well  say  when  the 
supreme  hour  arrives,  "I  am  ready."  While 
the  wind  sighs  through  the  trees  which  shadow 
his  grave,  and  the  birds  sing  their  sweet  songs 
at  the  close  of  dav,  let  us  all  remember  that 
we  too  must  ere  long  close  our  earthly  career, 
and  begin  our  lives  in  eternity.  May  our  rec- 
ord be  such  that  our  posterity  can  look  upon 
it,  and  truly  say, fr  We  are  proud  of  our  ances- 
tors." 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

Dr.  john  McGregor. 

Returned  from  prison  August  3d,  1862;  departed  this  life 
November  4th,  1867. 


In  early  morning 

We  watched  for  his  coming, 

Ere  the  first  beams  of  day 

Chased  the  black  night  away. 

Fearfully,  tearfully, 

Under  the  maple  tree, 

In  thickest  dark 

We  watched  for  his  coming. 

Heavy  the  mist 

Of  the  mid  August  morning. 

Chilly  and  clammy 

It  rose  from  the  valley  : 

A  sombre  pall  unfurled 

Over  a  prostrate  world, 

Shrouding  earth,  air  and  sky 

In  blackest  mystery, 

Filling  our  eyes  with  tears, 

Chilling  our  hearts  with  fears. 

As  in  its  depth 

We  waited  his  coming, 


112  EN    MEMORIAM. 

Watched  for  his  coming 
Through  mist  and  blackness, 
From  deeper  misery. 
Blacker  captivity. 
Wearisome  banishment', 
Sickness  and  languishment ; 
Out  of  a  charnel  house, 
Loathsome,  pest i ferons. 
Out  of  the  depths 
of  the  foul  Southern  prisons. 

Proudly  we  sent  him 

Forth  on  his  mission  ; 

Sadly  we  mourned  him. 

Our  loved  physician. 

Who  when  war's  thunder  stroke 

First  on  the  nation  broke. 

Hurried  without  delay 

Into  the  fierce  affray  ; 

On  Bull  Run's  fatal  field 

Nobly  disdained  to  yield  ; 

Quailed  not  when  shot  and  shell 

Raked  his  frail  hospital : 

Urging  his  men  to  die 

Rather  than  basely  fly ; 

Till  to  captivity 

Borne  by  the  enemy  ; 

Dragged  in  derision 

From  prison  to  prison, 

While  anxious  friends  in  vain 

Sought  his  release  to  gain  ; 

Still  interceding, 

Anxiously  pleading, 


On.   JOHN   McGKREGOK.  113 

From  Winter  to  Summer,  . 

Till  on  this  Sabbath  morn 

Rumors  of  his  return 

Fell  upon  doubting  ear-. 

Hopes  were  repressed  by  fears. 

As  in  the  stillness, 

The  shuddering  dullness, 

The  gloom  and  the  grimness. 

We  watched  for  his  coming. 

Never  a  sound  was  heard, 

Never  word  spoken ; 

Silence  and  darkness  reigned 

Mute  and  unbroken  : 

Till  from  the  valley  pale 

A  distant  moaning  wail 

Floated  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

Now  sinking  soft  and  slow. 

Like  summer  breezes  low. 

Until  the  straining  ear 

Scarce  a  faint  sigh  could  hear: 
Then  whistles  loud  and  shrill 
Echo  from  hill  to  hill. 
Quinnebaug's  valley  thrill. 
As  over  mead  and  plain 
Thunders  the  lightning  train. 
We  hear  the  warning  bell 
Its  swift  approach  foretell. 
With  furious  sally 
It  whistles  through  the  valley:. 
iJashing  along  the  stream. 
With  frantic  >hriek  and  scream 
Pausing  — perchance  to  bring 
Home  the  long  wandering  — 


Ill  TV    MEMORIAM. 

A  moment's  delay, 
Then  speeds  far  away, 
Plying  —  like  comet  bright  — 

To  viewless  realms  of  night. 

A.down  the  tillage  streel 

Lanterns  are  gleaming, 
Through  the  gray  waning  mist 
Dark  forms  are  stealing; 
Friends,  kindred,  neighbors, 
Together  rally. 
Waiting  the  tidings 
To  come  from  the  valley : 
Mutely  together  stood, 
Hoping  yet  fearing, 
Down  the  dark  valley  road 
Anxiously  peering. 
Low  rumbling  sounds  we  hear. 
Wagons  are  drawing  near, 
Pale  spectral  forms  appear 
Through  the  mist  gleaming. 
O'er  the  moist  clinging  soil 
Slowly  the  horses  toil. 
Slow  to  our  seeming, 
Whose  eager  eyes  intent 
On  those  dim  figures  bent. 
Scan  every  lineament. 
Striving  in  each  to  trace 
That  dear  familiar  face; 
Now  fearing,  now  doubting, 
Now  hoping,  now  shouting, 
•  lie  has  come  !     He  has  come  ! 
Oh.  Doctor,  welcome  home! 


Dk.    JOHN   MCGREGOR.  115 

From  long  imprisonment, 
From  weary  banishment, 
From  battle,  danger,  chains, 
Oh,  welcome  home  again  !" 

We  gather  round  him 

With  eager  greetings, 

Friend  after  friend 

Their  joy  repeating; 

While    from    sweet   Thompson 

bells 
A  joyful  choras  swells, 
Ringing  the  glad  refrain. 
••Home  again,  home  again." 
Black  night  had  passed  away 

Before  returning  day ; 
Vapor  and  cloud  had  gone, 
Bright  beamed  the  rising  suur 
As  homeward  turning, 
Upon  this  Sabbath  morn. 
This  resurrection  dawn. 
No  longer  mourning, 
But  with  one  heart  and  voice 
Singing  "  Rejoice,  rejoice," 
Telling  to  all  around 
••  The  Lost  indeed  is  found, 
The  dead  is  living." 
Making  the  Sabbath  day 
Where  e'er  the  tidings  stray  — 
At  home  or  far  away  — 
A  slad  Thanks °rivin 2: ! 


11G  IN    MEMORTAM. 

Five  years  have  passed  since  on  that  morn, 

That  misty  Augusl  morning, 
Through  hours  of  darkness  and  of  doubt, 

We  watched  for  his  returning, 
And  hailed  our  Doctor's  safe  release, 

His  happy  restoration, 
To  freedom,  practice,  friends  and  home. 

With  joyful  acclamation. 
Jn  deeper,  darker,  heavier  grief, 

To-day  our  hearts  are  mourning, 
No  friendly  message  cheers  us  now 

With  hopes  of  his  returning; 
No  prayers,  no  efforts  can  avail 

To  ope  that  narrow  prison, 
No  mandate  can  recall  the  dead. 

Back  to  our  yearning  vision. 

Yet  to  illume  this  gloomy  vale 

Of  death  and  desolation, 
There  comes  a  light  beyond  the  tomb, 

A  Heavenly  revelation ; 
Death  only  holds  the  outward  form. 

The  grave  is  but  the  portal. 
Where  the  freed  spirit  drops  its  clay 

To  soar  to  realms  immortal. 
Nor  can  we  doubt  that  in  that  realm 

Beyond  our  dim  discerning, 
Were  those  who  watched  for  his  return 

As  we  that  Sabbath  morning ; 
Nay,  that  the  rapturous  delight 

That  marked  the  earthly  meeting 
But  faintly  shadowed  forth  the  joy 

Of  that  celestial  greeting. 


Dr.    JOITN    MCGREGOR.  117 

Those  who  have  loved  him  here  below, 

Friends  who  have  passed  before  him, 
Spirits  of  just  ones  perfect  grown. 

Were  there  rejoicing  o'er  him  ; 
While  the  angelic  hosts  of  God, 

In  melodies  supernal, 
Welcomed  earth's  weary  wanderer  home 

To  Sabbath  rest  eternal. 

Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  hath  heard, 

Nor  fancy's  brightest  vision 
( 'onceived  the  things  prepared  for  those 

Who  share  the  blessed  elysian ; 
Enough,  that  those  who  honor  here 

Their  Saviour  by  confessing, 
Shall  be  by  Him  acknowledged  there, 

And  crowned  with  endless  blessing. 

And  he  so  deeply  mourned  by  all, 

The  much  beloved  physician, 
Who  had  so  nobly  kept  the  faith. 

Fulfilled  his  earthly  mission, 
He  who  to  those  celestial  heights 

Triumphantly  has  risen, 
Perchance  looks  down  with  pity  now 

On  us,  still  bound  in  prison. 
And  when  our  mortal  course  is  run, 

Our  earthly  fetters  riven. 
May  we,  like  our  departed  friend, 

So  faithfully  have  striven, 
That  all  who  welcomed  his  return, 

Or  shared  that  happy  meeting, 
May  share  with  him  that  Heavenly  home, 

Receive  his  joyful  greeting. 

Z. —  Windham  County  Transcript. 
Thompson,  April,  18fi8. 


THE  LATE 

Dr.  JOHN  McGREGOE. 


[From  the  Woonsocket  Patriot.] 


A  monument  has  just  been  erected  by  Mrs. 
Dr.  John  McGregor,  to  the  memory  of  her 
lamented  husband,  at  Phenix,  R.  I.  It  is 
constructed  of  granite  from  the  quarry  at 
Oneco,  Conn.,  near  his  father's  residence. 
The  monument  is  simple,  but  massive  in  its 
proportions,  and  would  seem  to  transmit  the 
memory  of  our  good  doctor  as  long  as  poster- 
ity shall  endure,  or  time  shall  last.  The  mon- 
ument consists  of  three  blocks  of  granite, 
commencing  with  a  base  of  five  feet  in 
diameter  and  two  feet  thick,  which,  from  the 
conformation  of  the  ground,  required  sixteen 
horses  to  convey  it  to  its  resting  place.     The 


120 

other  blocks  were  in  the  same  relative  propor- 
tions. Above  these  a  shaft  was  erected,  two 
feet  is  diameter  at  the  base  and  twelve  feet 
hiarh.  The  whole  is  a  commanding  structure, 
eighteen  feet  high,  executed  in  the  first  style 
of  the  art.  On  the  front  of  the  second  block 
of  granite,  the  name,  "Dr.  John  McGregor,'1 
is  cut  in  raised  letters  as  large  as  the  space 
will  admit,  with  his  age  and  the  date  of  his 
death  underneath.  Above,  on  the  shaft,  are 
the  Masonic  emblems,  the  Bible,  on  which  rest 
the  square  and  compass,  in  the  degree  of  a 
Master  Mason,  beautifully  executed.  It  will 
rear  its  massive  height  in  our  midst,  ever 
recalling  those  welcome  memories  which  clus- 
ter around  his  name,  and  impressing  upon  us 
the  exalting  thought  that  he  has  only  gone  up 
higher. 


RESOLUTIONS   CONCERNING 

THE    DEATH    OF 

Dr.  JOHN  McGREGOK. 


[From  the  Providence  Daily  Journal,  November  12,  1867.  ] 


The  Providence  Medical  Association  held 
a  meeting,  last  evening,  by  adjournment.  The 
President,  Dr.  Collins,  gave  an  interesting 
account  of  his  attendance  upon  the  interna- 
tional Medical  Congress  in  Paris,  and  his 
visits  to  the  hospitals  of  various  European 
capitals.  Upon  motion  of  Dr.  Gardner,  a  com- 
mittee of  three  was  raised  to  consider  the 
matter  of  the  running  of  cars  through  the  pub- 
lic streets  of  the  city,  and  to  memorialize  the 
City  Council  thereon,  if  it  shall  to  the  commit- 
tee seem  expedient.  Appropriate  resolutions 
touching    the   death    of  Dr.  McGregor  were 


adopted,  an  official  report  of  which  is  liorcto 
appended. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Providence  Medical 
Association,  held  on  Monday  evening,  Nov. 
11  th,  the  following  resolutions  were  unani- 
mously adopted: 

Whereas,  Our  late  brother,  Dr.  John  McGregor,  lias,  in  the 
Providence  of  God,  been  removed  from  us  by  sudden  death; 

Resolved,  That  we  cherish  in  lasting  esteem  the  many  manly 
and  generous  qualities  of  his  character,  his  skill  and  fidelity, 
which  had  given  him  a  high  reputation  before  he  came  among 
us;  his  patriotism,  severely  tried  in  long  captivity  at  the  South; 
his  liberality  to  the  poor,  and  his  conscientious  devotion  to  the 
duties  of  his  profession. 

Resolved,  That  we  keenly  lament  the  loss  of  an  associate  who 
gave  promise  of  eminent  usefulness  in  this  city. 

Resolved,  That  we  desire  to  express  our  heartfelt  sympathy 
with  the  family  that  has  been  so  suddenly  and  terribly  bereaved. 

Resolved,  That  these  resolutions  be  communicated  to  the 
widow  of  our  late  friend,  and  published  in  the  Providence  Daily 
Journal. 

G.  L.  Collins,  M.  D.,  President. 

W.  H.  Traver,  M.  D.,  Secretary. 


McGregor  post,  no.  14, 

G.    A.    R. 


[From  the  Pawtuxet  Valley  Gleaner.] 


Dr.  John  McGregor,  for  whom  this  post  was 
named,  was  born  October  10,  1820,  on  the  old 
McGregor  homestead  near  Greene  village, 
Coventry,  R.  I.  He  commenced  the  study 
of  medicine  with  Dr.  William  Hubbard,  of 
Crompton,  R.  I.,  and  afterwards  attended  lec- 
tnres  and  graduated  at  the  New  York  Medical 
College.  After  practising  two  years  at  his  old 
home,  he  came  to  Phenix,  and  followed  his 
profession  here  five  or  six  }7ears.  During  his 
stay  here  he  was  married  to  Miss  Emily 
P.  Ames,  a  daughter  of  the  late  William  C. 
Ames.  He  subsequently  moved  to  Thompson 
Hill,  Conn.,  to  take  the  place  of  Dr.  Bowen, 


124  McGREGOU    POST,    NO.    14, 

one  of  the  most  skillful  surgeons  and  physi- 
cians in  eastern  Connecticut. 

In  186]  he  was  appointed  surgeon  of  the 
3d  Connecticut  regiment,  by  Gov.  Bucking- 
ham, lie  was  taken  prisoner  at  the  first  bat- 
tle of  Bull  Run,  and  was  imprisoned  first  in 
Libby  Prison,  Richmond;  from  there  he  was 
sent  to  Charleston,  S.  C,  Jail ;  thence  to  ( Jastle 
Pinckney,  then  to  Columbia,  in  the  same 
state;  then  back  again  to  Libby;  thence  to 
Salisbury,  1ST.  C. ;  and  finally  he  was  taken  in 
his  weakened  condition  and  left  alone  on  the 
banks  of  the  James  river,  without  food,  and 
almost  naked.  The  second  day  he  signalled  a 
passing  Federal  steamboat,  and  was  taken  on 
board.  He  was  14  months  in  these  prisons, 
and  was  reduced  in  weight  from  220  to  145 
pounds. 

After  returning  home  he  was  elected  to  the 
Connecticut  kSenate.  But  his  health  was  so 
much  impaired  that  he  could  not  endure  the 
long  country  rides  necessary  in  the  practice 
of  his  profession,  and  he  removed  to  Provi- 
dence. Nov.  4th,  1867,  he  was  run  over  by 
the  cars  on  Dyer  street,  in  that  city,  and  his 


G.      A.      R.  125 

right  arm  so  badly  crushed  that  amputation 
was  necessary.  He  did  not  survive  the  opera- 
tion. His  remains  were  brought  here,  and  rest 
beneath  a  handsome  granite  monument  in  a 
cemetery  on  Parker  Hill,  whither  the  veterans 
make  an  annual  pilgrimage  on  Memorial  Day. 

McGregor  Post,  ~No.  8,  was  formed  here 
soon  after  the  Avar,  but  died  after  an  enfeebled 
existence  of  five  or  six  years.  The  memories 
of  the  Avar  were  fresh  then,  and  returned  sol- 
diers did  not  care  to  be  reminded  of  army  days, 
so  that  although  some  twenty-five  or  thirty 
names  were  upon  the  roll  at  one  time,  it  was 
difficult  to  secure  the  attendance  of  enough 
members  to  conduct  the  proceedings  of  the 
meeting. 

The  present  lodge,  McGregor  Post,  ^o.  14, 
starts  under  more  favorable  auspices.  The 
opening  meetings  have  been  well  attended. 
The  charter  members,  with  their  army  record, 
are  as  folloAvs: 

William  A.  Chappelle  AATas  a  corporal  in 
Co.  H.,  1st  P.  I.  Cavalry,  re-enlisting  the  7th 
of  November,  1861,  and  being  discharged  by 
reason  of  disability,  May  17,  1862. 


126  McGREGOU    POST,    NO.    14, 

John  Bonner  was  a  private  in  Co.  G.,  2nd 
N.  H.  Infantry,  in  which  he  enlisted  May  21, 
1861,  and  from  which  he  was  discharged  June 
21,  1861,  by  reason  of  expiration  of  service. 

Albert  II.  Johnson  was  a  private  in  Co.  II., 
14th  U.  S.  Infantry,  in  which  he  enlisted  July 
19,  18(51,  and  from  which  he  was  discharged 
July  19,  1864.  He  re-enlisted  in  Co.  A.,  12th 
U.  8.  Infantry,  November  29,  18(57,  and  served 
a  second  three  years. 

George  W.  Covell  served  as  a  private  in 
Co.  E.,  1st  R.  I.  Light  Artillery,  from  Sep- 
tember, 1861,  to  January  7,  18(53,  he  being 
discharged  for  disability.  He  again  enlisted 
January  26, 1864,  in  Co.  H.,  7th  E.  I.  Infantry, 
and  was  discharged  therefrom  July  13,  1865, 
at  the  close  of  the  war. 

M.  A.  Arnold  was  a  private  in  Co.  A.,  9th 
IN".  Y.  Cavalry,  and  served  from  September  20, 
1861,  to  December  20,  18(53.  He  then  re- 
enlisted  in  the  same  company,  and  served  as  a 
corporal  until  the  17th  of  July,  1865. 

Josiah  B.  Bowditch  enlisted  as  a  private  in 
Co.  D.,  1st  Yt.  Infantry,  April  20,  1861,  and 
served  till  August  17,  1861,  it  being  a  three 


G.      A.      R.  127 

months  regiment.  He  re-enlisted  May  29, 
18(52,  in  the  9th  Yt.  Infantry,  and  served  till 
June  24,  1865. 

William  H.  Hopkins  served  as  private  in 
Co.  F.,  2nd  R.  I.  Infantry,  from  November  23, 
1864,  to  July  13,  1865. 

Oliver  P.  Brown  served  from  June  5,  1861, 
as  private  in  Co.  H.,  2nd  R.  I.  Infantry,  until 
June  5,  1864. 

Albert  S.  Luther  served  as  private  in  Co.  E., 
3d  R.  I.  Heavy  Artillery,  from  August  21, 
1861,  to  August  31,  1864,  and  re-enlisted  in 
Hancock's  Veteran  Corps,  December,  1864, 
serving  till  September,  1865. 

Thomas  M.  Holden  served  as  a  private  in 
the  17th  111.  Cavalry,  from  September  2,  1864, 
till  May  22,  1865. 

Rufus  H.  Xorthup  enlisted  as  private  in  the 
9th  R.  I.  Infantry,  May  26,  1862,  for  three 
months,  and  served  till  September  2,  1862. 

Henry  King  served  as  assistant  surgeon  of 
the  9th  R.  I.  (three  months)  Infantry,  from 
September  2,  1862,  till  December  2,  1862. 

John  W.  Hollihan  served  as  a  private  in 
Co.  E.,  1st  R.  I.  Artillery,  from  September  13, 


128  McGREGOl?    POST,    NO.    14, 

1861,  till  the  3d  of  October,  1864. 

Rhodes  J.  Colvin  served  as  a  private  in  Co. 
E.,  65th  N.  Y.  Infantry,  from  August  13,  1861, 
to  December  20,  1863.  He  again  enlisted  in 
the  3d  N.  Y.  Battery,  December  20, 1863,  and 
was  discharged  February  20,  1804,  by  reason 
of  wounds  received  in  action  in  front  of  Peters- 
burg. 

James  T.  Smith  served  as  a  private  in  Co. 
K.,  7th  E.  I.  Infantry,  from  August  8,  1861, 
till  June  9,  1805. 

John  E.  Sweet  served  as  a  private  in  the 
2nd  E.  I.  Infantry,  from  June  5, 1801,  till  June 
17,  1804. 

Elisha  Gr.  Tew  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the 
12th  E.  I.  Infantry,  September  25,  1802,  and 
served  till  July  29,  1803. 

E.  C.  Capwell  enlisted  as  a  private  in  Co. 
A.,  1st  E.  I.  Cavalry,  August  8,  1802,  was 
made  hospital  steward,  and  was  discharged 
June  0,  1805. 

William  Carter  enlisted  as  a  private  in  Co. 
E.,  4th  E.  I.  Infantry,  September  10, 1801,  and 
was  discharged  by  reason  of  disability,  October 
10,  1802. 


G.      A.      R.  129 

Frank  M.  Tucker  served  in  the  1st  R.  I. 
Light  Artillery,  from  September  4,  1861,  till 
January  30, 1864.  He  re-enlisted  in  the  same 
command,  January  31,  1864,  and  served  as  a 
sergeant  till  July  16,  1865. 

Arnold  Lawton  served  in  Co.  F.  4th  R.  I. 
Infantry,  from  September  17,  1861,  till  March 
31,  1864. 

Elisha  R.  Watson  enlisted  in  Co.  D.,  4th 
R.  I.  Infantry,  August  5,  1862,  and  served  as 
private  till  June  4,  1865. 

Nathan  Potter,  Jr.  served  in  the  Signal 
Corps,  from  May  13,  1864,  till  September  5, 
1865. 


EXTRACTS   FROM 

THE 

WINDHAM  COUNTY  TRANSCRIPT, 

AUGUST  1,  1861. 


[ Correspondence  of  the  Transcript.] 

Washington,  D.  C,  July  26,  '61. 
Dear  Sir: — You  are  already  informed  of 
the  great  fight,  victory,  and  ignominious 
retreat  last  Sunday.  I  have  not  the  time  to 
write  a  description  of  the  affair,  and  if  I 
attempted  to  do  so  my  pen  would  fail  in  the 
attempt.  I  passed  the  Sabbath,  by  invitation, 
at  the  house  of  the  Hon.  Amos  Kendall,  when 
we  distinctly  heard  the  cannonading,  and  up 
to  9  o'clock  at  night  no  unfavorable  news 
reached  us,  but  on  the  contrary,  despatches 
were  received  stating  we  had  won  the  day, 
which  proves  to  be  true,  up  to  about  5  o'clock, 
when  the  teamsters  took  fright  and  commenced 
a   stampede.     This    was    soon    communicated 


1$2  EXTRACTS    FROM   THE 

to  the  volunteers.  At  the  same  time  an  incon- 
siderate order  to  fall  back  was  made,  when 
some  of  the  men  behaved  badly,  though  the 
main  body  fell  back  in  good  order. 

The  Connecticut  Regiments  behaved  well, 
both  in  the  fight  and  retreat,  saving  all  their 
own  baggage  and  equipment  and  that  of  four 
other  Regiments  besides. —  The  loss  of  our 
three  Regiments  is  thought  to  be  less  than  100 
men  in  killed,  wounded  and  missing,  among 
whom  we  have  to  record  Dr.  McGregor,  Sur- 
geon of  the  Third  Regiment,  supposed  to  be 
a  prisoner,  and  James  F.  Wilkinson,  about 
whom  nothing  has  been  heard  from  since  the 
retreat. 

The  last  known  of  Dr.  McGregor,  he  was 
in  the  hospital  doing  his  duty,  and  although 
advised  to  run  it  seems  he  preferred  not  to 
leave  the  poor  wounded  men,  even  to  save  him- 
self.    All  honor  to  such  heroism. 

The  1st  Connecticut  Regiment  started  for 
home  last  night ;  and  here  let  me  say  a  word 
about  the  Captain  of  the  1st  company,  (I.  R. 
Hawley,  Esq.)  who  instead  of  being  at  the 
hotels,  where  too  many   officers  were,  I  found 


WIXDHAM    COUNTY    TRANSCRIPT.         133 

him  with  his  own  men,  sharing  with  them  all 
the  hardships  of  the  clay,  and  for  this  devotion 
to  their  interests  the  men  all  love  him.  Always 
esteemed,  he  is  now  loved  a  thousand  fold 
more  than  before.  We  need  more  snch  men 
as  Capt.  Hawley. 

The  troops  are  pouring  in  here  from  the 
Xorth,  and  we  shall  soon  see  150,000  men  here 
under  McClellan,  who,  yon  may  be  assured, 
will  make  the  rebels  dance. 

When  I  learn  more  definitely  about  Dr. 
McGregor  and  Mr.  Wilkinson  I  will  inform 
yon.  In  great  haste, 

C.  Blackmar. 


Of  our  friend,  Dr.  McGregor,  over  whose 
fate  some  uncertainty  hangs,  we  cannot  think 
or  write,  save  as  of  one  who  will  in  time  be 
returned  to  us.  If  a  prisoner,  his  professional 
position  in  the  army  would  secure  him  merci- 
ful treatment  from  any  enemy  raised  above  the 
lowest  dregs  of  barbarism — and  we  would  not, 
until  compelled  by  the  most  conclusive  evi- 
dence, class  the  Southern  rebels  below  the 
Comanche  Indians.     We  know  that  he  came 


134  EXTRACTS    PROM    THE 

out  unharmed  from  the  shock  of  battle,  and 
we  cannot  think  that  he  has  been  murdered 
while  engaged  in  the  performance  of  his  du- 
ties. When  last  seen  he  was  busy  ministering 
to  the  wants  and  alleviating  the  sufferings  of 
the  wounded,  with  that  kindness,  coolness  and 
skill  which  has  made  him  so  popular  arnong 
us.  He  was  ''staying  with  the  boys,"  nobly 
and  fearlessly  performing  his  duty;  and  we 
cannot  but  hope  that  he  may  live  to  exercise, 
either  in  private  or  military  service,  that  pro- 
fessional skill,  and  to  manifest  those  qualities 
of  mind  and  heart  that  make  him  so  popular 
with  his  patients,  and  that  so  fit  him  to  fill  with 
advantage  to  the  State,  and  with  credit  to  him- 
self, the  responsible  office  of  Surgeon  in  the 
army. 


Dr.  McGregor. —  From  the  latest  reports 
from  the  Surgeon  of  the  Third  Regiment  it 
appears  that  Dr.  McGregor  was  not  killed,  but 
is  a  prisoner  to  the  rebels.  The  neAvs  of  Tues- 
day states  that  the  hospitals  were  not  burned, 
and  that  a  dozen  Surgeons  of  the  Federal  army 
are  at  Manassas.     With  every  person  in  Wind- 


WINDHAM    COUXTY   TRANSCRIPT.        135 

ham  Comity,  we  experienced  a  glow  of  pride 
at  the  heroic  record  of  the  conduct  of  the  noble 
doctor.  He  was  told  that  all  was  lost,  and  he 
must  leave  the  field  to  save  his  life,  but  the 
impulses  of  a  generous,  humane  heart  were 
stronger  than  the  call  of  self-preservation,  and 
he  remained  at  his  post  of  duty,  soothing  the 
pains  of  the  wounded  and  dying.  Such  self- 
abnegation  gilds  the  dark  cloud  of  our  tempo- 
rary defeat  with  rays  of  light  from  heaven. 
An  appreciating  community  hope  to  welcome 
him  again  to  his  old  home,  where  a  grateful 
people  will  honor  the  name  of  McGregor  for- 
ever. 


SOCIETY 


OF 


UNION   WAR   PRISONERS. 


Among  the  mementoes  of  the  war,  which 
Dr.  McGregor  had  at  the  time  he  left  the 
scenes  of  earth,  to  explore  that  unknown  conn- 
try  from  which  no  traveller  returns,  is  a  picture 
which  the  doctor  cherished  to  an  extreme.  To 
give  the  reader  an  idea  of  this  picture,  I  will 
go  hack  to  a  scene  which  took  place  in  Charles- 
ton Jail,  on  December  31,  1861.  At  this  time 
the  jail  and  jail-yard  were  filled  with  men  who 
had  left  their  homes,  their  families,  and  almost 
everything  which  makes  life  desirable,  to 
defend  and  uphold  the  flag  of  onr  nation;  that 
flag  which  cost  onr  patriot  forefathers  so  much 
blood  and  suffering;  a  flag  which  they  had  left 


138  SOCIETY    OF 

untarnished  to  our  keeping,  and  which  we  had 
sworn  to  protect  and  cherish.  The  thought 
becomes  almost  unbearable,  when  our  minds 
go  back  to  December  31,  1861,  and  resurrect 
the  scenes  which  were  then  taking  place  in 
that  loathsome  prison.  Two  hundred  of  our 
most  valiant  and  patriotic  men  were  huddled 
together  within  those  walls.  Men  of  unblem- 
ished  character,  whose  minds  soared  above 
rebellion,  whose  intellects  were  of  the  highest 
order,  were  suffering  for  want  of  bread  and 
many  of  the  necessaries  which  sustain  life. 
Men  who  would  never  knowingly  do  a  wrong 
thing,  and  whose  minds  were  as  unbending  as 
the  forest  oak,  were  by  fever  and  famine 
brought  to  a  premature  grave.  But  amid  all 
their  sufferings  and  hardships,  their  minds 
were  at  work.  You  can  imprison  the  body, 
but  you  cannot  confine  the  mind  within  prison 
walls.  The  mind  must  be  free,  or  it  will  desert 
its  throne.  Many  of  our  noble  soldier  boys 
became  idiotic,  and  died  by  being  deprived  of 
food  and  water  while  in  those  prisons.  The 
doctor  knew  that  the  mind  must  be  employed 
in  some  way,  to  keep  it  from  their  terrible  sit- 


UXIOX    WAR    PRISONERS.  139 

nation,  or  death  would  ensue;  so  he  went  to 
work  and  formed  a  secret  organization  with 
these  brother  prisoners.  It  was  more  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  their  minds  from  their  suf- 
ferings than  anything  else,  and  I  have  heard 
him  say  that  he  believed  that  it  saved  his  own 
life  and  many  other  lives. 

Among  those  prisoners  was  an  artist  of  the 
highest  reputation.  As  they  were  moved  from 
one  prison  to  another,  he  would  sketch  every- 
thing within  his  view  appertaining  to  the 
prisons.  In  some  mysterious  way  his  sketch- 
ings found  their  way  within  our  lines,  and 
were  forwarded  to  Washington.  President 
Lincoln  by  some  means  or  other  got  hold  of 
them.  He  had  them  enlarged,  and  they  made 
a  very  interesting  picture  for  those  who 
belonged  to  that  organization  which  was 
formed  at  Charleston  Jail,  and  who  were 
lucky  enough  to  get  once  more  within  our 
lines. 

I  will  give  the  reader  a  description  of  this 
picture.  It  is  two  feet,  eight  inches  wide,  and 
three  feet  long.  It  represents  the  different 
prisons  and   their  surroundings,  which   those 


140  SOCIETY    OF 

men  were  in  who.  belonged  to  that  organiza- 
tion. In  the  left  hand  corner  at  the  top  stands 
Logan's  tobacco  factory  in  the  city  of  Rich- 
mond, better  known  by  our  Northern  soldiers 
by  the  name  of  Libby  Prison.  In  the  opposite 
corner  of  the  picture  stands  the  jail  at  Colum- 
bia, S.  C,  with  the  jail-yards  in  view.  In  the 
center  stands  Castle  Pinckney,  S.  C.  The 
picture  is  surrounded  by  a  massive  chain. 
Over  this  prison  in  large  type  is  the  following: 
"Union  War  Prisoners  Association."  On  the 
left  of  the  center  picture  stands  8.  C.  Mill 
Prison,  Salisbury;  and  on  the  right  another 
view  of  the  same  prison  is  represented.  The 
stagnant  pool  from  which  our  poor  boys  got 
water  to  quench  their  thirst,  is  in  one  corner 
of  the  yard.  It  makes  one  feel  sad  to  look  at 
this  picture,  and  remember  how  much  suffering 
there  was  in  that  prison  and  pen,  in  the  time 
of  the  war.  At  the  bottom  of  the  picture 
stands  the  City  Jail,  Charleston,  S.  C.  On  the 
right  of  the  jail  and  in  the  corner  is  a  view  of 
the  prison-yard,  and  in  the  left  hand  corner  is 
another  view.  Under  the  City  Jail  is  the  fol- 
lowing in  large  type:  "Organized  in  Charles- 


UNION   WAR    PRISOXERS.  141 

ton  Jail,  December  31,  1861." 

A  massive  chain  encircles  this  picture,  with 
crossed  chains  running  from  one  side  to  the 
other,  denoting  that  our  boys  were  thoroughly 
guarded  in  those  prisons.  Between  the  views 
of  those  different  prisons,  are  columns  contain- 
ing the  autographs  of  the  prisoners  who 
belonged  to  that  wonderful  organization.  I 
will  give  the  names  and  rank  as  they  appear 
upon  the  picture.  I  will  commence  with  the 
left  hand  column,  which  extends  from  Libby 
Prison,  which  is  situated  in  the  top  and  left 
hand  corner  of  the  picture,  and  continues  down 
until  it  comes  to  the  view  in  the  left  hand  cor- 
ner at  the  bottom.  Then  I  will  continue  col- 
umn after  column,  until  I  come  to  the  last 
name,  which  will  be  situated  in  the  right  hand 
corner  at  the  bottom. 


William  H.  Clark, 

2nd  Lieut.  Comp.  G.  4th  Me.  Vols. 

S.  R.  Kittredge, 

2nd  Lieut.  2nd  Me.  Vols. 

Mauniel  Albaugh, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 


142  SOCIETY   OF 

John  Knoppel, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

Virgil  T.  Mercer, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st   Md.  Vols. 

Robert  N"eely, 

2nd,  Lieut.    1st  Md.  Vols. 

David  L.  Stanton, 

2nd  Lieut,  1st  Md.  Vols. 

J.  C.  Gregg, 

Tel-Op.  Hooker's  Div. 

A.  M.  Underbill, 

1st  Lieut.  11th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Harry  L.  Perrin, 

H.  S.  11th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Arnold  Rummer, 

1st  Lieut.  68th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Charles  Wilatus, 

2nd  Lieut,  8th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Frd.  Mosebach, 

2nd  Lieut,  7th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Albert  Brands, 

H.  S.  G8th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Anton  o.  Gfrorner, 

1st  Lieut.  54th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

August  Erhardt, 

2nd  Lieut.  54th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Thos.  S.  Hamblin, 

1st  Lieut.  38th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

C.  T.  Gardner, 

1st  Lieut,  100th  N.  Y.  Vols. 


UNION    WAR    PRISONERS.  143 

Timothy  Lynch, 

2nd  Lieut,  100th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

John  Marses, 

2nd  Lieut.  3d  N.  Y.  Cav. 

E.  M.  Raworth, 

Serg*t  Maj.  8th  111.  Cav. 

B.  L.  Chamberlain, 

Qt.  M'r  8th  111.  Cav. 

H.  G.  Lumbard, 

Adjt.  8th  111.  Cav. 

G.  B.  Kenniston, 

1st  Lieut.  5th  Me.  Vols. 

John  K.  Skiemer,  Jr., 

1st  Lieut.  2nd  Me.  Vols. 

J.  Bostwick  Colony, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

F.  M.  Collier, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

Win.  E.  George, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

C.  R.  Gillingham, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

Edward  J.  Rice, 

1st  Lieut,  oth  Conn.  Vols. 

Chas.  Walter, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Conn.  Vols. 

John  Downey, 

Capt.  11th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Ben.  Price, 

Capt,  70th  N.  Y.  Vols. 


144  SOCIETY    OF 


A.  A.  C.  Williams, 

Asst  Surtf.  IstN.  Y.  Art. 

Ros.  A.  Fish, 

Capt.  32nd  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Jas.  Decatur  Potter, 

Maj.  38th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

A.  S.  Cassidv, 

Maj.  93d  X.  Y.  Vols. 

L.  Cx.  Camp, 

Capt.  68th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Anton  Lehner, 

2nd  Lieut,  8th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Oscar  v.  Hermgon, 

1st  Lieut.  Comp.  E.  7th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Henry  Niemann, 

Comm.  29th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

William  Fay, 

1st  Lieut.  25th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Levi  Smith, 

1st  Lieut.  96th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

C.  W.  Tillotson, 

1st  Lieut.  99th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

M.  Bailey, 

Capt.  100th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

John  A.  Newell, 

1st  Lieut.  100th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Abram  H.  Hasbrouck, 

Adjt.  5th  N.  Y.  Car. 

John  W.  Dempsey, 

1st  Lieut.  2nd  N.  Y.  S.  M. 


UNIOX   WAR   PRISONERS.  145 

Samuel  Irwin, 

2nd  Lieut.  2nd  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

F.  E.  Worcester, 

2nd  Lieut.  71st  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

Geo.  W.  Caleff, 

2nd  Lieut.  11th  Mass.  Vols. 

Leonard  Gordon, 

Capt,  11th  Mass.  Vols. 

W.  C.  Nickels, 

Comm'd  Brig.  B.  K.  Eaton. 

Wm.  MilhoiLs, 

Capt.  1st  Va.  Vols. 

Timothy  Swan, 

1st  Lieut.  Comp.  A.  7th  Me.  Vols. 

James  S.  Baer, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

B.  H.  Schley, 

Capt.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

G.  W.  Kugler, 

Capt.  1st  Md.  Vols. 

Y.  E.  Von  Koerber, 

Capt.  1st  Md.  Cav. 

James  A.  Betts, 

Capt.  5th  Conn.  Vols. 

Hiram  Eddy, 

Capt.  2nd  Conn.  Vols. 

Geo.  Webb  Dodge, 

Chap'l  11th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

C.  C.  Gray, 

Ass't  Surg.  U.  S.  A. 


146  SOCIETY   OF 


Manuel  C.  Ca listen, 

1st  Lieut,  19th  Inf.  U.  S.  A. 

"W.  F.  Dushane, 

Lt.  Col.  1st.  Md.  Vols. 

Percy  Wyndham, 

Col.  1st  N.  J.  Cav. 
John  S.  Crocker, 

Col.  93d  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Lew  Benedict,  Jr., 

Lt,  Col.  73d  N.  Y  Vols. 

Otto  Botticher, 

Capt.  G8th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Jos.  Neustaedser, 

Qt.  M'r  8th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

A.  H.  Drake, 

Capt.  33d  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Martin  Willis, 

Capt.  74th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

B.  F.  Harris, 

Capt.  25th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

J.  H.  Nichols, 

Capt.  96th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

Thomas  Y.  Baker, 

Capt.  87th  N.  Y.  Vols. 

J.  W.  Dickinson, 

Capt.  8th  N.  Y.  Cav. 

Amos  H.  White, 

Capt.  5th  N.  Y.  Cav. 

James  A.  Farrish, 

Capt.  79th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 


UNION    WAR    PRISONERS.  147 

Wm.  Mandon, 

Capt.  79th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

John  Whyte, 

1st  Lieut.  79th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

P.  J.  Hargous, 

M'rs  Mate  U.  S.  N. 

J.  T.  Morrill, 

Comni'd  St.  Osceola. 

John  McGregor, 

Surg.  3d  Conn.  Vols. 

J.  D.  Cruttenden, 

A.  Q.  M.  of  Vols. 

J.  Ford  Kent, 

1st  Lieut.  3d  Inf.  U.  S.  A. 

J.  Sogdes, 

Maj.  1st  Art.  U.  S.  A. 

O.  B.  Willcox, 

Col.  1st  Mich.  Vols. 

Michael  Corcoran, 

Col.  69th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

Geo.  W.  ]^eff, 

Lt,  Col.  2nd  Ky.  Inf. 

Tim.  J.  Mearo, 

Capt.  42nd  N.  Y.  Vols. 

John  B.  Hoffman, 

Ass't.  Surg.  U.  S.  A. 

G.  H.  Bean, 

Capt.  1st  Vt.  Cav. 

Mort  Griffin, 

Capt.  8th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 


148  SOCIETY   OF 


Levi  S.  Stockwell, 

Pay  Ms'r  U.  S.  N. 

Chas.  II.  Baker,  U.  S.  ST., 

Chief  Knu.  U.  S.  N. 

L.  H.  Stone, 

Surg.  u.  s.  a. 

Charles  B.  Penrose, 

C.  S.  U.  S.  Vols. 

D.  S.  Gordon, 

2nd  Lieut.  2nd  Drai?.  V.  S.  A. 

S.  Bowman, 

Lieut.  Col.  8th  Pa.  Vols. 

John  K.  Murphy, 

Col.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 

W.  E.  Woodruff, 

Col.  2nd  Ky.  Inf. 

R.  A.  Constable, 

Lt.  Col.  75th  O.  Vols. 

George  Austin, 

Capt.  2nd  Ky.  Inf. 

George  D.  Sloenm, 

Ass't  Surg.  U.  S.  N. 

John  T.  Drew, 

Capt.  2nd  Vt.  Vols. 

J.  P.  Melvor, 

Capt.  69th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

John  Bagley, 

1st  Lieut.  69th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

Edw'd  Connelly, 

2nd  Lieut.  69th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 


UNION    WAR    PRISONERS.  149 

James  Gannon, 

2nd  Lieut.  69th  N.  Y.  S.  M. 

E.  Giddings, 

2nd  Lieut.  3d  Wis.  Vols. 

Gnstavns  Hammer, 

Capt.  3d  Wis.  Vols. 

John  J.  Garvin, 

Comm'd  St.  Union. 

John  H.  Shohwin, 

Capt.  1st  N.  Y.  Cav. 

Henry  E.  Clark, 

Capt.  1st  N.  J.  Cav. 

W.  H.  Withington, 

Capt.  1st  Mich.  Vols. 

W.  E.  Davis, 

Capt.  27th  Ind.  Vols. 

Wm.  D.  Richards, 

Capt.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 

Wm.  Richards,  Jr., 

Capt.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 

Cyriis  Strons, 

Capt.  46th  Pa.  Vols. 

Lonis  Schreiner, 

Chap'l  27th  Pa.  Vols. 

W.  E.  Stockton, 

Chap'l  61st  Pa.  Vols. 

A.  Davidson, 

Capt.  11th  Pa.  Cav. 

J.  W.  DeFord, 

1st  Lieut.  Sig.  Cr. 


150  SOCIETY    OF 

(r.  W  Davison. 

('apt.  61st  Pa.  Vols. 

Geo.  F.  Smith, 

Maj.  61st  Pa.  Vols. 

Wm.  L.  Curry, 

Lt,  Col.  106th  Pa.  Vols 

Thos.  Clark, 

Lt.  Col.  29th  0.  Vols. 

Thos.  Cox,  Jr., 

Capt.  1st  Ky.  Inf. 

J.  W.  Sprague, 

Capt.  7th  0.  Vols. 

G.  W.  Shurtleff, 

Capt.  7th  O.  Vols. 

R.  L.  Kilpatriek, 

Capt.  5th  O.  Vols. 

II.  E.  Symmes, 

Capt.  oth  0.  Vols. 

James  Beuse, 

Capt.  6th  0.  Vols. 

Edw'd  Hayes, 

Capt.  29th  0.  Vols. 

E.  B.  Smith, 

Capt.  29th  0.  Vols. 

David  E.  Hurlburt, 

Capt.  29th  0.  Vols. 

Thos.  O.  Buxton, 

Capt.  66th  0.  Vols. ' 

J.  G.  Palmer, 

Capt.  66th  O.  Vols. 


UNION    WAE    PRISONERS.  151 

M.  L.  Dempcy, 

2nd  Lieut,  66th  0.  Vols. 

J.  W.  Watkins, 

2nd  Lieut.  0.  Vols. 

II.  C.  Spencer, 

2nd  Lieut.  3d  Wis.  Vols. 

Isaac  M.  Church, 

2nd  Lieut,  2nd  R.  I.  Vols. 

William  Luce, 

Civ.  Eng. 

Richard  H.  Lee, 

Capt.  6th  N.  J.  Vols. 

A.  E.  Welch, 

1st  Lieut,  1st  Minn.  Vols. 

J.  P.  C.  Emmons, 

Capt.  1st  Mich.  Car. 

D.  Van  Buslrirk, 

2nd  Lieut,  27th  Ind.  Vols. 

James  C.  Linton, 

1st  Lieut,  20th  Vols. 

Geo.  E.  Johnson, 

1st  Lieut.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 

M.  McCarter, 

1st  Lieut.  93d  Pa.  Vols. 

Sam.  Cuspaden, 

1st  Lieut.  52nd  Pa.  Vols. 

Wm.  T.  Baum, 

1st  Lieut.  26th  Pa.  Vols. 

James  E.  Fleming, 

1st  Lieut.  11th  Pa.  Cav. 


152  SOCIETY    OF 

A.  N.  Davis, 

Capt.  3d  Ky.  Cav. 

C.  C.  Keen, 

1st  Lieut,  oth  Ky.  Cav. 

Arthur  T.  Wilcox, 

1st  Lieut.  7th  <>.  Vols. 

William  N.  Dick, 

1st  Lieut.  5th  <>.  Vols. 

J.  B.  King, 

1st  Lieut.  1st  O.  Art. 

Charles  Gilman, 

2nd  Lieut.  Oth  ().  Vols. 

H.  Gregon, 

1st  Lieut.  29th  O.  Vols. 

William  Neil, 

1st  Lieut.  29th  O.  Vols. 

E.  B.  Woodbury, 

1st  Lieut.  29th  0.  Vols. 

B.  F.  Ganson, 

1st  Lieut.  66th  0.  Vols. 

W.  H.  Kinley, 

2nd  Lieut.  6th  N.  J.  Vols. 

Frank  A.  Parker, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st  Cal.  Vols. 

Andrew  Luke, 

2nd  Lieut.  7th  Ind.  Vols. 

Joseph  Maguigin, 

2nd  Lieut.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 

J.  H.  Goldsmith, 

2nd  Lieut.  29th  Pa.  Vols. 


UNION    WAR    PRISONERS.  153 

J.  B.  Hutchison, 

2nd  Lieut,  loth  Pa.  Vols. 

J.  Irwin  "Nerm, 

2nd  Lieut.  28th  Pa.  Vols. 

E.  M.  Croll, 

2nd  Lieut,  104th  Pa.  Vols. 

Andrew  B.  Wells, 

1st  Lieut.  8th  Pa.  Car. 

James  Farran, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st  Ky.  Inf. 

Jno.  L.  Walters, 

2nd  Lieut.  3d  Ky.  Car. 

James  Timmous, 

2nd  Lieut,  5th  O.  Vols. 

E.  E.  Fisher, 

2nd  Lieut.  5th  O.  Vols. 

Chas.  H.  Robinson, 

2nd  Lieut.  1st  0.  Art. 

F.  S.  Schieffer, 

2nd  Lieut.  6th  O.  Vols. 

Thos.  W.  Ifash, 

2nd  Lieut.  29th  O.  Vols. 

Andrew  Wilson, 

2nd  Lieut.  29th  O.  Vols. 

Carey  H.  Russell, 

2nd  Lieut.  29th  0.  Vols. 

W.  A.  Sampson, 

2nd  Lieut,  OGth  O.  Vols. 


154  SOCIETY    OF 

I  think  there  were  two  objects  in  forming 
this  organization.  The  first  was  to  keep  their 
minds  from  their  sufferings^  and  the  second 
was,  that,  in  ease  onr  army  should  attempt  to 
rescue  them,  they  might  be  prepared  to  act  in 
concert.  Many  of  them  clung  to  hope  as  the 
child  clings  to  the  parent  when  they  pass  oyer 
some  terrible  place.  Others  became  despon- 
dent, sunk  beneath  the  vile  waves  of  destitution 
and  were  lost.  When  hope  vanished  from  their 
view,  they  were  soon  numbered  with  the  dead. 

This  picture  was  presented  to  the  doctor  by 
President  Lincoln  or  Secretary  Stanton,  I  am 
not  sure  which.  I  suppose  that  each  of  the 
other  prisoners  who  belonged  to  that  organiza- 
tion, and  who  lived  to  come  home,  had  one  pre- 
sented to  him.  This,  with  other  war  pictures, 
hang's  in  one  of  the  rooms  at  the  doctor's  old 
homestead.  It  is  viewed  by  many  with  much 
interest.  Very  often,  when  this  picture  is 
viewed  by  those  who  were  in  the  army,  point- 
ing to  some  name,  they  will  say,  ffI  knew  him. 
He  was  in  our  regiment. "  or,  ffHe  was  our 
captain.'1  or,  ffHe  was  taken  prisoner  at  such 
a  battle."     Those    who   lived    to  come    home 


FXTOX    WAR    PRISONERS.  155 

were  scattered  from  Maine  to  the  most  west- 
ern states,  so  that  in  all  human  probability, 
there  were  not  many  of  them  who  ever  met 
each  other  after  they  came  home.  It  is  very 
probable  that  the  most  of  them  have,  before  this 
time,  crossed  the  dark  river  of  death,  to  explore 
that  country  where  we  hope  there  will  be  no 
rebellions  or  wars  to  agitate  the  mind.  A\  nile 
the  survivors  of  the  soldiers  who  rallied  arpund 
our  flag  and  kept  it  from  being-  tarnished, — 
those  who  remain  on  this  side  of  the  river 
which  divides  this  from  that  undiscovered 
country, — -have  their  reunions,  the  question 
arises  with  some,  AVill  those  poor  soldiers  who 
have  passed  from  earth  have  their  reunions  in 
eternity?  And  another  question  often  arises. 
Do  we,  as  a  people,  sympathize  as  much  as  we 
ought  with  the  maimed  soldiers  who  sacrificed 
so  much  for  their  country's  sake,  who  lost  their 
limbs  while  protecting  the  hag  which  has  so 
long  waved  over  one  of  the  best  and  most 
noble  countries  known  on  this  earth?  These 
are  questions  which  should  be  brought  home 
and  considered. 


156 

Time's  a  pendulum  ever  swinging, 

Backward,  forward,  to  and  fro; 
In  its  changes  ever  bringing, 

Mingled  scenes  of  joy  and  woe  ! 
Life  is  like  the  tides  of  ocean, 

One  unceasing  ebb  and  flow, 
Youth  advancing,  age  returning. 

Generations  come  and  go. 
Names  remain,  but  things  are  changeful, 

Are  not  still  what  they  appear. 
In  the  name  the  same,  this  day  we  rally 

But  where  are  those  who  once  were  here? 
Gone  to  dwell  'mid  scenes  supernal, 

Gone  beyond  the  world  of  tears; 
Gone  to  realms  un dimmed,  eternal. 

Gone  beyond  the  flight  of  years. 

Memory  bless  them.     Twine  we  garlands 
Round  their  graves,  of  festal  flowers ; 

Requiems  wail  in  tearful  numbers. 
While  advance  the  joyous  hours. 

The  war  commenced  April  12,  1861,  witli 
the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter.  It  virtually 
ended  with  the  surrender  of  Gen.  Johnston 
and  his  army,  April  26,  1865,  at  Durham  Sta- 
tion, Gen.  Lee  and  his  army  having  surren- 
dered several  weeks  previously. 


McGregor  post,  g.  a.  r., 

DAXIELSOXYILLE,  CONK 


After  the  tidal  wave  of  rebellion  had  been 
broken,  and  that  destructive  element  subdued, 
and  the  remaining-  veterans  had  returned  to 
their  homes,  Grand  Army  Posts  were  formed 
in  different  places  throughout  the  Northern 
states.  One  of  these  posts  was  formed  in  the 
beautiful  borough  of  Danielsonville,  Conn.  It 
was  named  after  Dr.  John  McGregor,  and 
called  McGregor  Post.  This  showed  the 
esteem  the  veterans  had  for  him.  A  full  his- 
tory of  this  Post  would  be  very  interesting  to 
many,  but  I  have  not  the  means  at  hand  to 
give  it,  so  I  will  content  myself  by  saying  that 
the  lodge  room  is  in  keeping  with  the  object, 


158  McGREGOH    POST,    <t.    A.    K., 

and  adorned  with  many  mementoes  of  the  war. 

At  this  time  the  memories  of  the  war  were 
fresh,  and  the  returned  soldiers  seemed  to 
enjoy  themselves  by  assembling  together  and 
talking  about  the  scenes  which  they  passed 
through  during  that  terrible  war.  Their  blood 
would  be  warmed  and  quickened  when  the 
hand  played  some  tune  which  they  had  heard 
played  when  they  were  about  to  make  a  des- 
perate charge  upon  those  rebels;  and  again 
the  soft  murmurings  of  the  beautiful  Quinne- 
baug  river  would  soothe  their  feelings,  as  it 
flowed  past  their  lodge  on  its  way  to  the  grave 
of  Uncas,  the  once  noted  chieftain  of  the  Quin- 
nebaug  Valley. 

These  meetings  must  be  pleasant  in  some 
respects,  and  very  sad  in  other  respects.  It 
must  be  pleasant  for  those  soldiers  to  meet 
and  clasp  hands  with  each  other  once  more  on 
earth,  but  when  their  minds  turn  back  to  those 
terrible  scenes  on  those  battle  fields,  they  must 
be  filled  with  sadness.  iSTo  doubt  they  are 
willing  to  have  the  curtain  drop  to  banish  from 
their  memory  those  battle  field  scenes  where 
thousands  of  our  noble  young  men  went  down 


DAXIELSOXVILLE,    CONST.  159 

to  rise  no  more  on  earth,  where  they  bit  the 
earth,  poured  out  their  blood,  and  sacrificed 
their  lives  for  their  country's  sake.  No  doubt 
many  of  those  scenes  often  rise  in  view,  but 
we  must  hope  that  the  cloud  which  appears  so 
dark  may  have  a  silver  lining. 

Time  is  silvering  the  locks  of  those  who 
remain  to  assemble  at  their  lodge,  and  thinning 
the  ranks  of  those  who  suffered  the  hardships 
and  privations  of  that  war,  but  there  is  one 
consoling  thought  which  should  stimulate  the 
remaining  comrades,  and  that  is  this  —  there 
will  be  a  reunion  of  those  comrades  on  the 
other  side  of  the  dark  river  of  death,  away 
from  the  scenes  of  war  and  suffering,  away 
from  the  fever  and  the  famine,  away  from  dis- 
cord and  contention,  where  all  may  go  and 
enjoy  the  songs  of  the  angels  and  the  presence 
of  our  Heavenly  Father,  where  everything  will 
he  pure  and  holy,  in  that  mellow  light  reflected 
from  the  throne  of  God.  Most  of  their  old 
commanders  have  vanished  from  our  sight,  to 
be  seen  no  more  on  earth;  and  the  time  is  not 
far  distant  when  those  who  took  a  part  in  sav- 
ing our  country    from  disgrace,  will  be  men 


1()0  m<(;kk<;oi;    post,  <r.  a.   R., 

who  were.  Their  history  will  stand  high  on 
the  record  of  fame,  and  go  down  to  posterity 
as  the  sun  goes  down  beyond  the  western  hills, 
leaving  a  beautiful  sunset.  .  Every  young  man 
of  to-day  should  be  familiar  with  the  history  of 
those  men,  and  should  mould  Ids  character  after 
their  example. 

When  that  time  arrives  when  the  last  veteran 
of  our  last  war  has  passed  from  earth  to  join 
his  comrades  who  passed  away  amid  the  thun- 
der and  smoke  of  battle,  and  those  who  sur- 
vived the  shock  of  that  terrible  Avar  to  hear 
victory  proclaimed  throughout  our  country, 
then,  and  not  until  then,  can  our  history  be 
complete  concerning  that  war;  for  every  man 
has  a  history,  and  there  is  nothing  complete 
where  there  is  any  part  left  out.  Then  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty  may  truly  say,  "  I  have 
survived  those  patriots  who  established  my 
throne  and  protected  me  with  their  blood  and 
treasure  for  seventy-eight  long  years,  and  I 
have  also  survived  all  of  those  valiant  young 
men  who  came  to  my  assistance  when  the  flag' 
was  assailed  which  I  have  waved  so  long  over 
one  of  the  most  erlorious  nations  on  the  earth. 


DAXIELSOXVILLE,    COXX.  161 


and  still  my  throne  stands  as  firm  as  the 
adamantine  rock,  and  the  old  flag  is  untar- 
nished, with  each  and  every  star  glittering  in 
the  sunlight  of  prosperity." 

While  I  deeply  mourn  for  those  who  have 
acted  a  noble  part,  and  gone  to  assemble 
around  a  more  glorious  throne,  the  sadness  is 
somewhat  diminished  by  a  ray  of  light  break- 
ing through  the  dark  clond,  and,  by  its  bright- 
ness, saying,  frYour  throne  is  safe,  and  will 
ever  be  so  as  long  as  the  spirit  of  our  fore- 
fathers exists  in  those  who  have  the  manage- 
ment of  our  government."  May  it  stand  until 
the  archangel,  with  one  foot  upon  the  sea  and 
the  other  upon  the  land,  shall  proclaim  that 
time  is  no  more.  Then  may  the  laurel  wreath 
which  encircles  the  flag  of  our  nation  be  found 
unremoved,  and  in  all  of  its  freshness.  This 
throne  has  stood  as  a  sentinel  over  this  nation 
for  more  than  one  hundred  years.  It  has  seen 
former  generations  rise,  flourish,  and  pass  away 
as  if  they  had  never  existed. 

Here  may  be  seen  the  ruins  of  an  Indian 
empire;  and  though  they  were  the  children  of 
the  forest,  and  though  they  left  no  monuments 


162  m<  <;i:k<;oi;   post,  a.   A.   R., 

of  sculpture,  painting,'or  poetry,  yet  great  were 
they  in  their  fall,  and  sorrowful  is  the  story  of 
their  wrongs.  They  once  had  cities,  but  where 
are  they  now?  It  is  true  they  worshipped  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  the  genius  of  storm  and  dark- 
ness. The  sacred  pages  of  revelation  had 
never  been  unrolled  to  them,  and  the  gospel 
of  our  Savior  had  never  sounded  in  the  ears 
of  the  poor  children  of  the  forest.  They  heard 
the  voice  of  their  Grod  in  the  morning  breeze; 
they  saw  Him  in  the  dark  clouds  that  rose  in 
wrath  from  the  west.  Here  they  once  lived 
and  loved.  Here  the  council  fire  blazed  and 
the  war-whoop  echoed  among  their  native  hills. 
But  at  'length  the  white  man  from  the  east 
came  upon  their  shores.  They  yielded  not 
their  empire  tamely,  but  they  could  not  stand 
against  the  sons  of  light,  and  so  they  tied. 

To-day  America  opens  wide  the  gate  and 
smooths  the  way  by  which  the  aspiring  youth 
of  our  land  may  drink  at  the  fountain  of  free- 
dom, and  if  they  will  follow  those  who  have 
left  in  our  keeping  the  greatest  treasure  on 
earth,  and  who  are  beckoning  us  onward,  the 
dav  is  not  far  distant  when  the  bar,  the  senate, 


DAXIELSOXVrLLE,    COXX.  163 

and  the  pulpit  will  re-echo  the  principles  upon 
which  our  government  stands,  and  will  draw 
the  eves  of  all  learned  men  from  beyond 
Atlantic's  waves  to  the  growing'  blessings  of 
the  American  republic.  A  noble  feeling  has 
already  been  awakened  throughout  the  Union. 
Offerings  from  the  treasury  of  almost  every 
state  have  already  been  laid  on  the  altar,  and 
consecrated  to  the  elevation  of  man.  The 
poet's  muse,  the  orator's  eloquence,  and  the 
historian's  pen,  will  erelong  be  employed  on 
nobler  themes  than  even  our  majestic  rivers, 
matchless  water-falls,  interminable  forest,  or 
smiling  prairies — the  cultivation  of  human 
intellect,  the  elevation  of  the  human  mind 
above  all  Grecian  and  all  Roman  fame.  This 
country  is  raising  a  monument  that  will  last 
when  the  names  and  the  memories  of  thousands 
of  men  and  things  that  are  now  occupying  a 
large  share  of  public  notice  shall  have  passed 
into  oblivion.  The  sparks  of  intelligence 
which  are  scattered  among  us  will  kindle  a 
fire,  which,  if  rightly  consecrated,  will  give 
stability  to  the  altars  of  religion  and  liberty, 
and  shed  a  brisrhter  halo  around  our  national 


character  than  all  the  achievements  of  armies 
or  of  navies.  To  these  enlightened  and  noble 
efforts,  every  patriot  should  bid  God  speed, 
and,  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  moves,  second 
the  efforts  to  induce  the  rising  hopes  of  onr 
country  to  prepare  themselves  for  the  varied 
duties  that  their  country  may  require  them  to 
discharge. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  PARENTS. 


The  writer,  having  neglected  to  give  a  short 
account  of  Jeremiah  McGregor,  father  of  Dr. 
John  McGregor,  in  its  proper  place  will  give 
it  here. 

In  1780,  one  hundred  and  six  years  ago,  the 
father  of  Dr.  John  McGregor  was  horn. 

In  1800,  he  with  fourteen  others,  was 
employed  by  government,  to  survey  and  lay 
out  certain  townships  in  the  state  of  New 
York.  He  was  in  the  government  employ 
two  years.  At  that  time,  fever  and  ague  was 
so  prevalent  in  that  section,  that  very  few 
could  remain  more  than  a  short  time.  A 
large  portion  of  the  state  of  New  York  was  a 
wilderness,  inhabited  only  by  Indians.  The 
Mohawks,  the  Tonawandas,  and  the  Oneidas, 


!(>(>  the  doctor's 

roamed  through  the  interior.  There  were  no 
canals  or  railroads  then.  The  usual  mode  of 
emigration  was  to  cany  the  family  and  house- 
hold goods  in  canvas-covered  wagons,  drawn 
by  oxen.  The  toilsome  journey  was  made 
along  rough  roads,  through  dark  forests,  and 
across  rapid  streams.  Not  a  single  state  had 
been  formed  out  of  the  extensive  region  called 
the  North- West  Territory,  lying  between  the 
Alleghany  and  the  Rocky  mountains.  It  was 
at  one  time  claimed  by  the  French,  under  the 
name  of  Louisiana.  A  large  portion  of  this 
rich  country  was  the  wide  hunting  ground  of 
the  Indians.  The  celebrated  Tecumseh  was 
the  mighty  chief  and  warrior  farther  west. 

A  man  by  the  name  of  Elliot  was  the  head 
engineer;  and  many  of  his  lines  and  plats  are 
referred  to  at  this  distant  day.  They  surveyed 
and  platted  the  Holland  Purchase,  or  what  is 
better  known  as  Batavia,  and  another  township 
west  of  Saratoga. 

After  returning  home,  he  assisted  his  father 
in  farming,  and  in  the  hotel  business,  until  his 
father  gave  up  the  business,  when  he  continued 
in  the  same  line  of  business  for  over  sixty  long 


PAUEXTS.  1(57 

years.  . 

In  1812,  the  war  with  England  threw  the 
Country  into  excitement,  and  unsettled,  to 
some  extent,  its  business.  At  that  time,  he 
was  colonel  of  the  ninth  regiment  of  militia. 
The  following  was  his  commission  from  Gov. 
Jones. 


By  his  excellency,  William  Jones.  Esq.,  Governor.  Captain- 
General,  and  Commander-in-Chief,  of  the  State  of  Rhode  Island 
and  Providence  Plantations. 

T<>  Jeremiah  McGregor,  Esq.  :  Greeting, 

You,  the  said  Jeremiah 
McGregor,  having  been  elected  by  the  General  Assembly,  at  the 

session  on  the  first  Wednesday  of  May  instant,  to  the  Office 
of  Colonel  of  the  ninth  Regiment  of  Militia  in  the  State  afore- 
said, are  hereby,  in  the  Name  of  the  State  of  Khode  Island  and 
Providence  Plantations,  authorized,  empowered  and  commis- 
sioned, to  exercise  the  Office  of  Colonel  of  the  Regiment  afore- 
said, and  to  command  and  conduct  the  same,  or  any  part  thereof. 
And  in  case  of  an  Invasion,  or  Assault  of  a  common  Enemy,  to 

infest  or  disturb  this  State,  you  are  to  alarm  and  gather  together 
said  Regiment  under  your  Command,  or  such  Part  thereof  as 
yon  shall  deem  sufficient;  and  therewith,  to  the  utmost  of  your 
Skill  and  Ability,  you  are  to  resist,  expel  and  destroy  them,  in 
order  to  preserve  the  Interest  of  the  good  Citizens  of  this  State. 
You  are  also  to  follow  such  Instructions  and  Orders  as  shall, 
from  Time  to  Time,  be  given  forth,  either  by  the  General 
Assembly,  the  Governor  and  General  Council,  or  other  your 
Superior  <  >;licers.     And  for  your  so  doing,  this  Commission  shall 


L68  the  doctor's 

be  your  sufHcienl  Warranl  and  Discharge. 

Given  under  my  Hand,  and  the  Seal  of  the  Stale,  this  Elev- 
enth Day  of  May.  in  the  Year  of  our  Lord.  One  Thousand  Eight 
Hundred  and  Twelve,  and  in  the  Thirty-Sixth  Year  of  indepen- 
dence. 

By  his  Excellency's  Command. 

William  Jokes. 
Samuel  Eddy,  Secretarv. 


The  following  September i  he  was  ordered 
to  call  out  his  regiment,  and  wait  for  further 
orders.  He  obeyed  the  order  by  calling"  his 
regiment  out,  on  the  plain  just  east  of  a  hotel 
located  where  the  Coventry  Asylum  now 
stands.  At  that  time,  it  was  expected  that 
the  regiment  would  be  called  to  Newport,  but 
on  the  second  day  orders  came  for  the  regi- 
ment to  be  dismissed  with  the  understanding 
that  they  should  hold  themselves  in  readiness 
at  a  minute's  warning;  but  no  further  orders 
came.  The  war  after  a  while  fizzled  out;  but 
not  until  it  had  done  much  damage  to  onr 
commerce,  and  disorganized  many  branches 
of  our  business.  For  a  long  time,  all  of  our 
merchandise  was  transported  from  Boston  to 
New  York,  and  vice  versa,  with  ox  teams. 
Onr  young  men  of  to-day  would  think  it  quite 


PARENTS.  169 

an  undertaking  to  drive  an  ox  team  from  Bos- 
ton to  New  York  and  back;  but  at  that  time 

we  had  young  men  who  could,  and  were  will- 
ing- to  do  it.  I  have  no  doubt  that  we  have 
young  men  to-day,  who,  if  it  was.  necessary, 
would  do  it  without  murmuring,  for  the  last 
war  demonstrated,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  our 
young  men  were  willing  to  saerifiee  as  much 
as  any  young  men  of  any  nation,  or  at  any 
period. 

Iii  1831,  the  doctor's  father  took  doAvn  the 
old  sign  which  had  swung  before  the  old  hotel 
for  fifty  long  years;  and  when  he  raised  it 
again  it  had  been  repainted,  and  so  wonder- 
fully changed  that  mairy  of  the  beholders  w^ere 
astonished.  The  portrait  of  Washington  had 
been  changed  for  the  picture  of  a  young  and 
noble  looking  horse,  trampling  beneath  his 
feet  an  object  which  he  seemed  anxious  to 
destroy.  By  his  side  stood  a  young  and  fear- 
less looking  man,  who  seemed  to  be  urging 
him  on.  Over  his  head  waved  a  banner  with 
the  word  fr Temperance"  in  gilt  letters,  and 
underneath  was  the  proprietor's  name,  with 
the  date  1831. 


170  the  doctor's 

At  this  time,  the  cause  of  temperance*  was 
in  its  infancy;  and  it  was  not  strange  that 
many  at  that  day  were  surprised  at  seeing  the 
old  sign  so  much  changed.  They  soon  dis- 
covered  that  the  interior  of  the  hotel  was  as 
much  changed  as  the  old  sign.  The  shelves 
in  the  bar,  on  which  usually  stood  decanters 
filled  with  all  kinds  of  alcoholic  liquors,  were 
perfectly  empty.  No  signs  of  alcoholic  bever- 
age were  to  be  seen.  Many  were  discom- 
forted, and  some  showed  their  displeasure  by 
tearing  the  sign  down  a  number  of  times;  but 
it  arose  as  often  as  it  fell.  After  a  while  the 
people  became  more  reconciled,  and  the  old 
sign  was  allowed  to  swing  to  and  fro  without 
molestation.  From  1831,  the  hotel  was  kept 
on  strictly  temperance  principles.  I  think 
that  I  am  safe  in  saying  that  this  was  the  first 
temperance  sign  ever  raised  in  Rhode  Island. 

In  1841,  he  joined  the  Christian  Baptist 
Church,  at  Rice  City;  and  ever  after  was  a 
consistent  member  of  that  church. 

He  was  buried  in  the  family  cemetery  on 
the  old  homestead,  where  his  father  and 
mother,  his  wife  and  two  brothers,  in  dream- 


PARENTS.  171 

less    sleep,  are    waiting'    for   the    resurrection 
morn. 

As  I  said  in  the  commencement,  Dr.  John 
McGregor's  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Major 
Jonathan  Nichols;  and  I  might  justly  say  that 
the  doctor  owed  much  of  what  he  was  to  his 
mother.  That  person  never  lived  in  Coventry, 
who  read  more,  or  remembered  more  of  what 
they  read,  than  the  doctor's  mother.  She 
always  kept  well  posted  on  all  matters  con- 
cerning the  welfare  of  our  country.  She 
seldom  gave  advice  until  she  had  thoroughly 
examined  the  matter,  and  her  advice  was 
always  in  the  right  direction.  Her  sufferings 
while  the  doctor  was  in  prison  were  intense; 
and  when  his  life  was  sacrificed  in  Providence, 
her  mind  was  almost  dethroned.  She  loved 
her  children  as  none  but  a  mother  could.  She 
always  endeavored  to  bend  the  twig  in  the 
rii>*ht  direction,  for  she  believed  that  the  way 
the  twig  was  bent,  the  tree  would  be  inclined. 


THE 

McGregor  homestead. 


[From  the  Pawtuxet  Valley  Gleaner.] 


We  wander  all  through  the  old  mansion. 
We  look  at  the  old  furniture  which  has  been 
in  the  family  over  a  century.  We  hear 
the  old  clock  ticking,  that  has  stood  in  one 
place  eighty  long  years.  We  see  Col.  John 
McGregor's  old  regimentals  which  he  wore  in 
the  Continental  Army  in  1776,  and  the  old 
sword  still  hangs  upon  the  wall,  which  he 
unsheathed  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and 
sheathed  at  Xew  York  when  Washington  dis- 
missed his  army.  We  see  his  old  muster  roll 
dated  October  11,  1776  to  Nov.  25,  1783,  with 
the  names  of  those  patriots  who  were  under 
his  command.     We  see  orders  from  Washing- 


174  THE    MCGKREGKXR 

ton,  Durkee,  and  from  other  commanders. 
We  see  files  of  old  papers  which  were  printed 
in  Rhode  Island  when  Washington  was  pres- 
ident; the  first  Chronicles,  the  first  Journal, 
the  first  American,  and  the  first  Patriot  ever 
printed  in  Rhode  Island.  We  see  autographs 
of  many  noted  men,  such  as  Governors 
William  Jones,  John  B.  Francis.  Gov.  Jack- 
son, John  Clark,  Albert  C.  Greene,  James 
F.  Simmons,  Joseph  S.  Tillinghast,  John 
Whipple,  William  Anthony,  and  a  thousand 
others.  We  read  on  a  pane  of  glass  in  one  of 
the  windows  a  verse  inscribed  by  Gen.  Lafay- 
ette in  1825.  We  see  an  organ  brought  from 
foreign  lands  in  1708,  the  only  one  of  the  kind 
in  the  United  States.  In  the  attic  stands  the 
old  loom,  the  linen  wheel,  the  hetchel,  and 
many  of  those  things  which  were  very  neces- 
sary one  hundred  years  ago. 

This  house  was  once  a  center  of  busy  inter- 
est, and  is  located  twenty-two  miles  from 
Providence  and  twenty-three  miles  from  Xor- 
wich  on  the  Providence  and  Norwich  turnpike, 
For  over  a  century  a  hotel  was  kept  here  by 
the   McGregors.     The  old    sign    that    swung 


HOMESTEAD.  17»") 

before  the  house  one  hundred  years  ago  to 
advertise  the  business  there  transacted,  is  in 
the  house  still. 

We  enter  the  Masonic  Lodge  room  which 
is  in  the  west  part  of  the  house.  Seventy 
years  ago  the  Hamilton  Lodge  was  instituted 
in  this  room  and  was  the  first  offspring  of 
Manchester  Lodge.  As  Ave  enter  this  room 
silence  is  upon  the  walls.  The  craftsmen  are 
not  here.  The  master's  gavel  is  silent,  and 
the  square  and  compass  stand  out  in  bold 
relief  as  much  as  to  say,  "We  encompass  the 
whole  and  square  the  end  of  time/'  We  see 
on  the  Avail  autographs  of  some  of  the  crafts- 
men. We  see  the  old  inkstand,  long  since 
dry,  and  here  are  still  to  be  seen  things  that 
aaiII  remind  us  of  the  past.  Peace  to  the  name 
of  the  old  Lodge  room.  Silence  is  upon  thy 
walls,  proud  room,  for  a  memorial.  Such  is  the 
old  Hamilton  Lodge  room,  a  magnificent  relic. 

Col.  John  McGregor  came  from  Dundee, 
Scotland.  He  brought  to  this  country  Ma- 
sonic seed  and  planted  it  at  Anthony,  R.  I.  It 
germinated  and  grew.  The  results  attained 
are  well  known  to  the  fraternity. 


L76  Till.    MCGREGOR 

lie  raised  a  company  of  volunteers  in  the 
town  of  Blainfield,  Conn.,  and  on  the  sixth  of 
June^  1775,  they  left  Plainfield  and  marched 
for  Boston.  Many  of  that  company  never 
returned.  When  the  sun  rose  on  that  memo- 
rable 17th  of  June,  1775,  that  little  hand  of 
patriots  was  diligently  at  work  fortifying 
Bunker  Hill.  Let  ns  draw  a  vail  over  that 
bloody  scene  and  leave  to  the  imagination  of 
the  reader  the  sacrifice  that  was  made  that 
day.     Let  it  suffice. 

When  Warren  went  down,  Freemasonry 
lost  one  of  its  most  brilliant  stars.  The  ring 
of  the  fraternity  seemed  to  be  broken.  The 
craft  generally  rejoice  in  being  known  as  a 
fraternity,  the  limits  of  which  are  like  a  ring 
that  is  without  beginning  or  end,  being  one 
continuous  circle;  such,  of  course,  is  Masonry, 
according  to  its  teachings,  and  should  be  in 
fact.  It  could,  and  ought  to  be,  and  if  the 
brethren  only  took  the  pains  to  make  it,  it 
would  be  so. 

I  have  wandered  from  the  old  homestead. 
I  will  now  go  back.  The  reader  may  ask  why 
I  call  it  the  old  McGregor  Homestead.     I  will 


HOMESTEAD.  177 

tell  you.  Five  generations  of  McGregors 
have  lived  here.  Col.  John  McGregor,  Jere- 
miah, son  of  Col.  John,  Dr.*  John,  son  of 
Jeremiah  and  grandson  of  Col.  John,  John 
the  3d,  great-grandson,  and  Virgil  Johnson, 
great-grandson  of  Jeremiah  and  great-great- 
grandson  of  Col.  John  McGregor.  Jeremiah, 
father  of  Dr.  John,  lived  here  95  years.  Jere- 
miah S.  McGregor  still  lives  at  the  old 
homestead.  What  a  consolation  it  must  be  to 
know  that  your  parents,  grandparents,  great- 
grandparents  and  great-great-grandparents 
have  lived  in  the  same  house,  slept  in  the  same 
rooms,  walked  the  same  paths,  drank  from  the 
same  well,  read  the  same  papers,  and  used  the 
same  furniture. 

And  what  is  home  and  where,  but  with  the  loving? 

Happy  thou  art  that  so  canst  gaze  on  thine  ! 
My  spirit  feels  but  in  its  weary  roving, 

That  with  the  dead,  where'er  the)*  be.  is  mine. 

Ask  where  the  earth's  departed  have  their  dwelling, 
Ask  of  the  clouds,  the  stars,  the  trackless  air: — 

I  know  it  not, — yet  trust  a  whisper,  telling 
My  lonely  heart  that  love  unchanged  is  there. 

Cosmopolite. 


REMINISCENCES 

OF 

ANCIENT   PLAINFIELD. 


[Copied  From  a  Connecticut  Paper.] 


Let  us  go  back  to  1774;  at  this  time  the 
Colonies  were  in  a  turmoil  from  end  to  end, 
by  reason  of  a  threatened  Coercion  Bill,  a  bill 
designed  by  Great  Britain  to  put  down  the 
Colonies  and  their  just  claims  of  Fixity  of 
Tenure  for  the  people.  The  public  excitement 
continued  to  increase.  Associations  were 
formed  in  many  places  throughout  the  Colo- 
nies, under  the  title  of  Sons  of  Liberty.  Such 
an  association  was  formed  in  Plainfield. 

Previous  to  said  date  a  man  from  Dundee, 
Scotland,  by  the  name  of  John  McGregor, 
located  in  said  town.  He  soon  made  many 
acquaintances  in  Plainfield,  and   erelong    be- 


ISO  REMINISCENCES    <>K 

came  acquainted  with  Israel  Putnam,  of  Brook- 
lyn. .McGregor  was  well  posted  in  military 
discipline,  having  seen  much  service  in  Scot- 
land; and  as  Putnam  had  seen  something  of 
war,  their  hearts  beat  in  union.  McGregor 
was  selected  to  discipline  said  association  in 
the  arts  of  war. 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  was  shed  at 
Lexington,  the  first  blood  in  the  Revolutionary 
war.  At  this,  the  Sons  of  Liberty  communi- 
cated with  each  other  by  signals.  The  beacon 
lights,  located  on  many  of  the  lofty  hills,  were 
strictly  attended  to. 

On  the  evening  of  June  6th,  the  beacon 
light  on  Shepard's  Hill  was  seen  streaming 
heavenward.  It  was  the  signal  for  the  Sons 
of  Liberty  to  assemble  at  their  headquarters. 
Said  headquarters  were  at  Simeon  Shepard's 
residence,  which  wTas  located  where  the  Plain- 
field  almshouse  now  stands. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  great  excite- 
ment in  Plainfiekl.  They  all  knew  that  the 
association  would  soon  have  news  from  Bos- 
ton. About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a 
horseman    was    seen    coming    at    breakneck 


AX(  IKXT    PLAIXFIELD.  181 

speed,  from  towards  Boston.  The1  assembly 
was  spellbound  as  the  messenger  dashed  up 
to  the  headquarters.  The  man  was  as  pale  as 
death.  He  was  completely  exhausted,  and 
was  taken  from  his  horse  and  carried  into  the 
house.  The  poor  horse  trembled  and  reeled, 
and  before  the  dispatch  could  be  nnlashed  from 
the  saddle,  he  fell  to  the  ground.  He  had 
carried  his  last  message.  The  dispatch  was 
directed  to  John  McGregor.  The  following 
is  a  copy. 

Boston,  June  6th,  1775. 
Captain  John  McGregob  :  Dear  Sir, —  Forward  your  men  to 
Boston  as  soon  as  possible.     They  will  be  needed  soon. 

Your  friend. 

Israel  Putnam. 

The  following  night  was  a  busy  and  sleep- 
less one  for  the  men  and  women  in  Plainfield, 
for  the  company  was  to  commence  its  march 
for  Boston  at  seven  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
At  the  appointed  time,  those  Sons  of  Liberty 
formed  themselves  into  line,  and  waited  for  the 
word,  ff  Forward!"  Swift  as  the  summons 
came,  the}T  left  the  plow  mid-furrow,  standing 
still,  the  half  ground  corn-grist  in  the  mill,  the 


182  REMINISCENCES    OF 

spade  in  the  earth,  the  ax  in  cleft.  They  went 
where  duty  seemed  to  call.  They  only  knew 
they  could  but  die.  They  had  not  long  to  wait 
for  the  word,  "Forward,"  for  erelong  McGregor 
came  to  the  front,  unsheathed  the  sword  which 
had  been  presented  to  him  by  the  association, 
and,  in  a  clear  voice,  said,  "Sons  of  Liberty! 
all  of  you  who  are  willing  to  share  with  me  the 
dangers  and  sufferings  of  war,  for  your  coun- 
try's sake,  Forward  March  !"     Xot  one  faltered. 

The  reader  can  imagine  the  feelings  of  the 
friends  of  these  young  men,  as  they  left  Plain- 
field,  and  wound  their  way  over  the  hills  and 
through  the  valleys,  until  they  reached  Boston. 

On  the  9th,  this  little  band  of  patriots  filed 
into  one  of  the  redoubts  near  Boston.  Putnam 
was  there  ready  to  receive  them.  On  the  17th, 
they  took  an  active  part  in  the  battle  of  Bun- 
ker Hill.  Some  of  these  men  served  until 
Washington  disbanded  his  army  at  New 
York.  Many  of  them  never  returned  to 
Plainfield.  We  Avill  draw  a  vail  over  Valley 
Forge,  Trenton,  Morristown,  White  Plains, 
and  many  other  places,  where  their  sufferings 
can  never  be  fully  described. 


AKCIEKT    PLA1XFTELD.  188 

The  old  sword  which  John  McGregor  had, 
presented  to  him  by  said  association,  and  which 
he  used  all  through  the  war,  is  now  in  posses- 
sion of  the  writer.  Also,  his  old  muster  roll 
containing  the  names  of  the  men  in  his  com- 
pany. His  company  was  in  Col.  John  Durkee's 
regiment.  For  the  benefit  of  the  posterity  of 
those  patriots,  I  will  transcribe  a  part  of  that 
old  muster  roll.  Space  will  not  allow  me  to 
copy  the  whole  roll,  therefore  the  reader  must 
be  content  with  a  part.  The  following  are 
some  of  the  names  found  on  said  roll: 

James  M.  Daniels,  John  Sanders,  Clear 
Haymont,  Joshua  Stoddard,  Henry  Shaw, 
Solomon  Haymont,  Samuel  Stafford,  Abel 
Franklin,  Josiah  Hogers,  Philemon  Love,  Asa 
Law,  Oliver  Hogers,  John  Williams,  Lot 
Chace,  Reuben  Bryant,  Caesar  Steward,  Wil- 
li am  Glenn,  Therea  Durkee,  Ames  Ben- 
nett, Pomp  Haymont,  Peter  Horry,  Jedediab 
Brown,  James  Dike,  John  Almey. 

The  grave  of  Putnam  should  be  immortal- 
ized; men  die,  but  their  works  remain,  their 
example  survives. 

To-day,  this  republic  holds  in  secure  grasp, 


184 

every  element  of  power,  every  condition  of 
existence.  Finn  and  strong,  she  extends  to 
other  nations  the  hand  of  friendship,  We 
have  erected  upon  onr  shores  a  statue  of  Lib- 
erty illuminating  the  world.  We  cannot  be 
deaf,  we  must  not  be  blind,  to  her  munificence. 
The  centennial  anniversary  draws  on  apaee. 
The  national  spirit  is  revived.  The  national 
wealth,  and  power,  and  pride,  are  at  their 
zenith. 

When  the  July  sun  shall  hereafter  rise  in 
its  perennial  course,  may  its  morning  rays,  as 
they  lift  from  the  Atlantic  waves,  gild  the 
spotless  shaft  which  shall  stand  for  countless 
ages,  the  witness  of  a  nation's  gratitude ;  and 
as  they  fall  upon  each  patriot's  grave,  and 
finally  sink  in  effulgence  in  the  deep  bosom  of 
the  Pacific  ocean,  may  we  remember,  and  our 
children  and  children's  children  after  us 
remember,  the  obligations  we  owe  those  patri- 
ots for  our  establishment  and  security  in  this 
vast  heritage. 


SKETCH 


OF 


Dr.  P.  K.  HUTCHINSON. 


The  subject  of  this  sketch,  Dr.  P.  K. 
Hutchinson,  was  born  on  the  29th  of  August, 
1817,  in  the  town  of  Plainfield,  in  the  state  of 
Connecticut.  The  early  youth  of  Dr.  Hutchin- 
son was  spent  in  the  beautiful  village  of  Plain- 
held,  and  almost  within  the  shadows  of  that 
ancient  academy,  in  which  so  many  noted  men, 
fifty  years  ago,  acquired  their  education.  He 
entered  that  academy  very  early  in  life  and 
continued  until  he  graduated.  Being  strongly 
inclined  to  study,  he  sought  every  opportunity 
for  improving  his  mind,  and  a  profession  was 
the  great  end  at  which  he  aimed.  After  leav- 
ing the  old  academy  at  Plainfield,  he  entered 


186  SKETCH    OF 

Amherst  College,  where  he  remained  until  he 
graduated  with  the  highest  honors,  After  he 
left  the  college,  he  immediately  entered  the 
office  of  Dr.  Coggeshall,  an  eminent  physician, 
then  residing  in  Plainfield,  and  commenced 
the  study  of  medicine.  He  subsequently  grad- 
uated at  the  Medical  University  at  New 
Haven. 

In  1847,  he  opened  an  office  and  loeated  him- 
self in  Coventry,  Rhode  Island,  taking  the 
plaee  vacated  by  Dr.  John  McGregor,  who 
had  moved  to  Phenix.  For  twenty  years  he 
remained  at  the  old  McGregor  homestead.  In 
1850,  he  married  Miss  Jane  McGregor,  daugh- 
ter of  Jeremiah  McGregor  and  sister  to  Di*. 
John  McGregor. 

He  soon  acquired  a  reputation  as  a  physician 
of  the  highest  order.  His  practice  at  this  time 
was  very  extensive,  and  his  success  as  physi- 
cian was  beyond  what  he  had  ever  hoped.  He 
had  gained  the  confidence  of  the  people,  and 
his  reputation  was  fully  established.  He  had 
previously  joined  the  Christian  Baptist  Church, 
at  Rice  City,  and  was  a  very  active  member. 
He  took  a  great  interest  in  the  common  school 


DR.    P.    K.    HUTCHIXSOX.  187 

system,  and  did  very  much  toward  the  further- 
ance of  the  cause.  He  was  always  ready  and 
willing  to  assist  in  any  work  which  would 
improve  the  morals  of  the  people,  or  raise  them 
to  a  more  exalted  position.  He  was  generous 
to  an  extreme.  He  was  just  as  ready  and  will- 
ing to  doctor  the  poor  as  he  was  the  rich.  The 
beggar  never  went  from  his  house  empty- 
handed.  He  was  what  you  might  call  a  whole- 
souled  man. 

Subsequently,  he  purchased  a  farm  at  Rice 
City,  and  moved  thither.  He  was  elected  to 
many  offices  in  the  town  and  state.  For  a 
long  time  he  was  one  of  the  town's  School 
Committee,  and  for  two  years  represented 
Coventry  in  the  State  Legislature. 

In  1862,  he  was  appointed  assistant  surgeon 
of  the  twelfth  Rhode  Island  regiment,  com- 
manded by  Col.  George  H.  Brown.  At  the 
battle  of  Fredericksburg,  he,  with  other  doc- 
tors, was  in  one  of  the  churches  occupied  as 
a  hospital.  Soon  after  this  battle,  he  was 
taken  with  chronic  diarrhoea,  and  was  obliged 
to  resign  his  office  and  return  home. 

He  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  extending 


L88  SKETCH    OF 

a  gracious  hospitality  to  his  friends.  But  the 
day  was  fast  approaching  when  his  earthly 
labors  were  to  cease.  It  was  not  long  before 
his  illness  had  rapidly  increased,  and  his  con- 
dition was  such  that  physicians  entertained  no 
hope  of  his  recovery.  lie  also  was  sensible 
that  his  last  days  were  very  near.  With  the 
most  perfect  calmness,  he  conversed  with  his 
family  and  friends,  and  gave  directions  con- 
cerning- his  funeral,  being  desirous  that  his  last 
resting-place  on  earth  should  be  in  the  fam- 
ily cemetery,  on  the  old  McGregor  homestead. 
Gradually,  he  was  sinking;  and  on  October 
31st,  he  inquired  the  day  of  the  month.  Being- 
told  that  it  was  the  31st  of  October,  he  told 
his  friends  that  he  might  live  till  another  day, 
and  expressed  an  earnest  wish  that  he  might. 
His  prayer  was  heard.  The  dawn  of  another 
day  broke  upon  his  eyes,  and  then  they  were 
closed  forever.  And  what  a  noble  consumma- 
tion of  a  noble  life!  To  die  where  his  name, 
by  his  own  acts,  stood  high  on  the  record  of 
fame,  was  glorious;  to  die  amid  the  people  who 
looked  up  to  him  as  the  author  under  God  of 
their    greatest    blessings,    was    all    that    was 


Dn.    P.    K.    HUTCHIXSOX.  189 

wanted  to  fill  up  the  record  of  his  life.  Fifty- 
live  summers  had  rolled  over  his  head.  He 
had  passed  the  meridian  of  his  usefulness,  and 
his  departure  was  similar  to  a  beautiful  sunset. 
His  spirit  was  freed  from  the  bondage  of  earth, 
as  it  left  the  scenes  of  his  earthly  honors. 

In  him,  the  elements  of  self  control  were 
strong.  Possessing  great  fortitude,  as  well  as 
personal  courage,  his  command  of  temper  was 
such  that  his  friends  seldom  saw  him  in  a  pas- 
sion. He  was  also  possessed  of  simplicity  of 
manner,  although  coupled  with  easy  dignity. 
He  was  fluent  and  eloquent  in  conversation, 
and  remarkably  precise  and  correct  in  his 
language.  As  a  classical  scholar,  his  writings 
were  after  the  best  models  of  antiquity,  and 
he  never  endeavored  to  convince  by  the  mere 
force  of  argument.  So  nearly  the  whole  of 
Dr.  Hutchinson's  life  was  passed  before  the 
public,  that  his  actions  speak  his  character 
better  than  words  can  express  them,  and  what- 
ever his  faults  may  have  been,  if  he  had  them, 
his  name  will  be  cherished,  and  he  will  be  held 
in  grateful  memory,  as  one  of  our  most  eminent 
physicians. 


190 

He  died  at  his  home,  in  Rice  City,  November 
1st,  1872,  aged  55  years.  At  his  death,  the 
Rice  ( lity  Church  lost  a  worthy  member,  and 
the  community  a  skillful  physician.  Rev.  Mr. 
Westgate,  from  Phenix,  preached  a  very 
instructive  and  interesting  discourse  upon  the 
occasion,  taking  for  his  text,  the  7th  and  8th 
verses  found  in  the  fourth  chapter  of  the  sec- 
ond Epistle  of  Paul,  the  Apostle,  to  Timothy, 
,?I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished 
my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith :  Henceforth 
there  is  laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteous- 
ness, which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  judge, 
shall  give  me  at  that  day:  and  not  to  me 
only,  but  unto  all  them  also  that  love  his 
appearing." 

A  massive  granite  monument  denotes  the 
place  where  the  mortal  part  of  Dr.  P.  Iv. 
Hutchinson  is  peacefully  resting.  There  is 
nothing  certain  in  this  life  but  death. 

Leaves  have  their  time  to  fall, 
And  flowers  to  wither  at  the  North  wind's  breath, 

And  stars  to  set  —  but  all, 
Thou  hast  <tU  seasons  for  thine  own.  o  Death! 


CONCLUSION. 


For  the  benefit  of  our  posterity,  and  to  aid 
the  historians  who,  in  the  future,  will  doubtless 
endeavor  to  make  their  histories  of  this  nation 
as  complete  as  possible,  we  should  exert  our- 
selves in  gleaning  and  preserving  everything* 
which  will  be  interesting  and  useful  to  the  suc- 
ceeding generation.  Every  nation  has  a  his- 
tory ;  and  the  completeness  depends  upon  how 
much  the  historian  can  find  preserved  to  form 
said  history. 

Little  drops  of  water, 

Little  grains  of  sand, 
Make  the  mighty  ocean, 

And  the  beauteous  land. 

Every  man  has  two  histories,  a  public  and 
a  private  one.  The  one  becomes  fairly  the 
property  of  the  public,  by  virtue  of  his  having 


192  (ox(Lrsiox. 

been  connected  with  events  in  which  everyone 
has  a  share  of  interest;  but  the  other  belongs 
exclusively  to  himself,  his  family,  and  his  inti- 
mate friends.  Our  most  lofty  mountains  are 
formed  and  composed  of  small  particles  of 
quartz,  feldspar,  mica,  different  kinds  of  ore, 
and  many  other  things  too  numerous  to  men- 
tion, which  it  takes  to  make  those  mighty 
elevations.  The  Amazon  river,  the  largest, 
but  not  the  longest,  river  in  the  world,  is 
formed  and  made  complete  by  the  contribution 
of  hundreds  of  other  smaller  rivers;  and  those 
rivers  are  formed  by  thousands  of  little  brooks, 
contributing  their  waters;  and  those  little 
brooks  are  formed  by  thousands  and  thousands 
of  tiny  springs  of  water,  located  in  different 
places  on  the  east  side  of  the  Andes  Mountains, 
hundreds  of  miles  apart.  So  it  is  with  history. 
It  is  made  complete  by  the  small  particles 
which  the  historian  gleans,  and  which  he  finds 
scattered  in  different  localities.  To  make  his- 
tory reliable,  scenes  should  be  described  by 
those  who  witnessed  them,  places  should  be 
described  by  those  who  have  seen  them,  the 
acts  of  men  should  be  described  by  those  who 


conclusion".  193 

know  the  facts,  the  sayings  of  men  should  be 
repeated  by  those  who  heard  those  sayings, 
and  a  record  should  be  made  of  the  testimony 
of  those  witnesses.  It  is  not  so  very  strange 
that  historians  disagree  in  their  accounts  of 
scenes  which  they  describe,  from  the  fact  that 
witnesses  located  in  different  positions,  view 
scenes  in  a  different  light.  There  is  no  excuse 
for  historians  disagreeing  on  dates,  names,  and 
the  general  facts.  Mistakes  will  occur  with 
the  most  correct  writers,  and  it  proves  that 
man  is  imperfect  in  many  ways.  It  is  not  given 
to  man  to  achieve  perfection;  else  this  world 
would  not  be  a  state  of  discipline. 

Why  is  it  that  we  are  so  very  particular 
about  having  all  of  our  deeds,  wills,  contracts, 
and  many  of  our  business  transactions,  record- 
ed, and  those  records  placed  in  some  secure 
depository,  for  preservation.  The  whole  object 
is  this;  our  memory  being  fallible,  if  we  make 
a  record  of  our  acts  and  doings,  and  those 
records  are  preserved,  we  can  refer  to  those 
records  and  ascertain  the  facts,  and  the  suc- 
ceeding generation  may  have  the  benefit  of 
those  records,  after  we  are  gone  from  earth. 


194  conclusion. 

History  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  rec- 
ord of  the  past.  Men  die,  but  their  record 
remains,  their  example  survives.  When  I  look 
back  over  the  period  of  fifty  .years,  crowded 
with  great  events,  and  which  has  witnessed  the 
convulsion  of  the  nation,  the  reorganization 
and  reconstruction  of  our  political  system, — 
when  in  my  mind's  eye  I  people  this  country 
with  those  whose  forms  have  been  familiar  to 
me,  whose  names,  many  of  them  historical 
names,  are  now  carved  on  granite  or  marble 
that  covers  their  dust,  I  am  filled  with  a  sad- 
ness inexpressible,  yet  full  of  consolation; 
for,  musing  on  the  transitory  nature  of  all 
sublunary  things,  I  come  to  perceive  that 
their  instability  is  not  in  their  essence,  but  in 
the  forms  which  they  assume,  and  in  the  agen- 
cies that  operate  upon  them;  and  when  I  recall 
those  whom  I  have  seen  fall  around  me,  and 
whom  I  thought  necessary  to  the  sueeess, 
almost  to  the  preservation,  of  great  principles, 
I  recall  also  those  whom  I  have  seen  step  into 
the  vacant  places,  put  on  the  armor  which 
they  wore,  lift  the  weapons  which  they 
wielded,  and  march  on  to  the  consummation 


conclusion.  195 

of  the  work  which  they  inaugurated.  And 
thus  I  am  filled  with  reverent  wonder  at  the 
beneficent  ordering  of  nature,  and  inspired 
with  a  loftier  faith  in  that  Almighty  Power 
without  whose  guidance  and  direction  all 
human  effort  is  vain,  and  with  whose  blessing 
the  humblest  instruments  that  He  selects  are 
equal  to  the  mightiest  work  that  He  designs. 
When  we  contemplate  the  close  of  life,  the 
termination  of  man's  designs  and  hopes,  the 
silence  that  now  reigns  among  those  who  a 
little  while  ago  were  so  busy  or  so  gay,  who 
can  avoid  being  touched  with  sensations  at 
once  awful  and  tender?  AVhat  heart  but  then 
warms  with  the  glow  of  humanity?  In  whose 
eye  does  not  the  tear  gather,  on  revolving  the 
fate  of  passing  and  short-lived  man?  Of  all 
the  sorrows  which  we  are  here  doomed  to 
endure,  none  is  so  bitter  as  that  occsioned  by 
the  fatal  stroke  which  separates  us,  in  appear- 
ance, forever,  from  those  to  whom  either  nature 
or  friendship  had  intimately  joined  our  hearts. 
Memory  from  time  to  time  renews  the  anguish, 
opens  the  woirhd  which  seemed  once  to  have 
been   closed,  and,  by  recalling  joys  that  are 


19()  roxcLrsTox. 

past  and  gone,  touches  every  spring  of  painful 
sensibility.  In  these  agonizing  moments,  how 
relieving  the  thought  that  the  separation  is 
only  temporary,  not  eternal;  that  there  is  a 
time  to  come  of  reunion  with  those  with  whom 
our  happiest  days  were  spent,  whose  joys  and 
sorrows  once  were  ours,  whose  piety  and  virtue 
cheered  and  encouraged  us,  and  from  whom, 
after  we  shall  have  landed  on  the  peaceful 
shore  where  they  dwell,  no  revolutions  of 
nature  shall  ever  be  able  to  part  us  more.  Such 
is  the  society  of  the  blessed  above.  Of  such 
is  the  multitude  composed  which  stands  before 
the  throne. 


THE    EXD. 


/ 


